No. 190-191. 



i 



I 



ft 

i 



J&L— 



maynard's 
English • Classic • Series 



-I-I-I-H-1-1I--1--1-1-1-1- I --1- 




— I — j — W — 1 — j — f — 1 — ^ — ! — 4 — I — ! — t ^ ^8 



rr 



-^ 



NEW YORK 

Maynard, Merrill 3c Co. 

43,45 * 47 East IOI2 St. 



L 



i 









r< v- 



Mailingrrice 24cts, 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



Chap. Copyright No. 

Shelf.. JL?^ 7' 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 






I 



MAYNARD S ENGLISH CLASSIC SERIES. — NOS. I9O-I9I 

Lord Chesterfield's 
Letters 

To his Son and Godson, Selected 



WITH INTRODUCTION, BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH, 
AND NOTES 



BV 

HENRY H. BELFIELD. PH. D. 

Director of the Chicago Manual Training School 




0/ 






NEW YORK 
MAYNARD, MERRILL, & CO. 

29, 31 AND 33 EAST I9TH STREET 






K\ 



Copyright, 1897, by Maynard, Merrill, & Co. 



Contents 



PAGE 

Introduction, 3 

Sketch of the Life of Lord Chesterfield, . . 7 
Letters to His Son : 

I. The Value of History, 13 

II. The Ambitions of Boys, .... 15 

III. Good Breeding, 17 

IV. The Athenian Ostracism, . . .19 
V. The Use of Others' Thoughts : Th^ Proper 

Use of Epithets 21 

VI. The Evils of Awkwardness, ... 23 
VII. A Severe Reproof, . . . . .27 

VIII. Trifles, 29 

IX. Inattention : Observation, .... 31 

X. The Folly of Wholesale Denunciation, . 33 

XI. The Intelligent Traveler, . . . .35 

XII. The Knowledge of Books and of Men, . 38 

XIII. Thoughtfulness, 41 

XIV. True Pleasure not Vice, .... 45 
XV. Attic Salt, 47 

XVI. One Thing at a Time, 49 

XVII. Friendships : Company, 51 

XVIII. The Use and Value of Time, . . . 54 

XIX. Be Thorough, 56 

XX. The Modesty of True Learning, ... 59 

XXI. The Lazy Mind : The Frivolous Mind, . . 63 

3 



4 CONTENTS 

PAGE 

XXII. Against Casuistry, 67 

XXIII. Rules for Conduct in Company, . . 69 

XXIV. The Graces : The Duke of Marlborough, 76 
XXV. Dignity of Manners, .... 81 

XXVI. " Complete the Work," .... 83 

XXVII. Low Company, 90 

XXVIII. Style, 92 

XXIX. " A Tongue to Persuade," ... 96 

XXX. Purity of Character, .... 99 

XXXI. Economy of Time : Dispatch of Business, 105 

XXXII. Virtue : Modesty, . . . . .110 

XXXIII. Importance of Good Enunciation, . . 113 

XXXIV. History: Conversation, .... 116 
XXXV. Good Handwriting, 120 

XXXVI. Engaging Manners : "A Respectable Hot- 
tentot," 123 

XXXVII. " SUAVITER IN MODO, FORT1TER IN Re," . 125 

XXXVIII. Business Habits, 130 

XXXIX. Reading History, 133 

XL. Aim at Perfection, . . . . .135 

XLI. Health: Time: Idleness, ... 138 

XLII. " Avoir du Monde," 141 

XLIII. Civility, 145 

XLIV. Knowledge of Books: Ignorance of Men, . 148 

XLV. The Value of Method, .... 152 

Letters to His Godson : 

XL VI. Every Man the Architect of His own 

Fortune 156 

XL VII. Attention and Diligence, ... 158 



Introduction 



44 Surely it is of great use to a young man, before he starts out for 
a country full of mazes, windings, and turnings, to have at least a 
good map of it by some experienced traveler." Thus did the author 
of these Letters state their object : and in this spirit lias this selection 
of them been prepared for the use of American youth. 

For more than a century the Letters of Lord Chesterfield have 
commanded the admiration of lovers of English literature. " The 
Letters are brilliantly written — full of elegant wisdom, of keen wit, 
of admirable portrait painting, of exquisite observation and deduc- 
tion. Viewed as compositions, they appear almost unrivaled as 
models for a serious epistolary style : clear, elegant, and terse, never 
straining at effect and yet never hurried into carelessness." — Lord 
Mahon. As literature, they have never been criticised : but their 
morality has been condemned as doubtful, or worse, and their 
perusal by the yoiing has been regarded as having a tendency to 
debase, rather than to elevate. The answer to this charge has usually 
been " that the Letters reflected the morality of the age, and that 
their author only systematized and reduced to writing the principles 
of conduct by which, deliberately or unconsciously, the best and the 
worst of his contemporaries were governed." 

While this is true of some of the letters, it is equally true that, in 
others, moral conduct is repeatedly and forcibly inculcated, but 
generally, it is to be regretted, from the lowest motive, selfishness. 
Lord Chesterfield advocates purity of character as many advocate 
honesty, because it is the best policy. Between his basis for a cor- 
rect life, and the New Testament basis, there is a great gulf. Even 
the stoic Emperor, Marcus Aurelius, lives on a far higher plane. 
But that Lord Chesterfield does insist upon a moral life is recognized 
by the readers of his letters, though probably unsuspected by those 
who know him simply by his general reputation. In the Letter 
numbered XXX. in this volume, he says : " Your moral character 
must be not only pure, but, like Caesar's wife, unsuspected. The 

5 



6 INTRODUCTION 

least speck or blemish upon it is fatal." " There is nothing so delicate 
as your moral character, and nothing which it is your interest so 
much to preserve pure." And he denounces those who believe, or 
affect to believe, that there is no difference between " moral good 
and evil," as "unaccountable wretches," "the devil's hypocrites.'' 
His teaching, therefore, is not adverse to Christian morals : he 
preaches morality, but on the ground of expediency. He assumes 
that his son has had no lack of Christian instruction : and he adds his 
testimony, "asa man of the world," to the value of a good character 
from a business point of view. In a letter dated May 15, O. S. 1749 
(not included in this volume), he says : " I am not now preaching to 
you, like an old fellow, upon either religious or moral texts : I am 
persuaded you do not want the best instruction of that kind ; but 
I am advising you as a friend, as a man of the world, as one who 
would not have you old while you are young, but would have you 
take all the pleasures that reason points out, and decency warrants." 

11 I will, therefore, suppose for argument's sake (for upon no other 
account can it be supposed) that all the vices above mentioned were 
perfectly innocent in themselves : they would still degrade, vilify, and 
sink those who practiced them ; would obstruct their rising in the 
world, by debasing their characters ; and give them a low turn of 
mind and manners, absolutely inconsistent with their making any 
figure in upper life, and great business." 

Chesterfield was a life-long admirer of Voltaire, whom he intro- 
duced to his friends in England ; but he did not hesitate to write thus 
to the great Frenchman : 

" I strongly doubt whether it is permissible for a man to write 
against the worship and belief of his country, even if he be fully per- 
suaded of its error, on account of the terrible trouble and disorder it 
might cause ; but I am sure it is in no wise allowable to attack the 
foundations of true morality, and to break unnecessary bonds which 
are already too weak to keep men in the path of duty/' 

It seems therefore to the present editor that the letters included in 
this volume are instructive and valuable to the young, as the testi- 
mony to the necessity of purity of character given by a man wno 
knew thoroughly the moral rottenness of a dissolute age. 

To the other charge made against the Letters, that they insist ' ' t^ > 
much on manners and graces, instead of more solid acquirements," 
Lord Mahon replies that it "is certainly erroneous, and arises only 



INTRODUCTION 7 

from the idea and expectation of finding a general system of educa- 
tion in letters intended solely for the improvement of one man. 
Young Stanhope was sufficiently inclined to study, and imbued with 
knowledge ; the difficulty lay in his awkward address and indifference 
to pleasing. It is against these faults, therefore, and these faults 
only, that Chesterfield points his battery of eloquence. Had he 
found his son, on the contrary, a graceful but superficial trifler, his 
letters would, no doubt, have urged, with equal zeal, how vain are all 
accomplishments, when not supported by sterling information. In 
one word, he intended to write for Mr. Philip Stanhope, and not for 
any other person. And yet, even after this great deduction from 
general utility, it was still the opinion of a most eminent man, no 
friend of Chesterfield, and no proficient in the graces — the opinion of 
Dr. Johnson, ' Take out the immorality, and the letters should be 
put into the hands of every young gentleman.' " 

It should be remembered that the Letters were not written for 
publication, nor with any expectation of their being read except by 
the son to whom the fond and anxious father opened his heart. By 
his letters is Lord Chesterfield remembered ; while his prominence in 
political and literary circles is forgotten. 

The constant recurrence of foreign words and phrases illustrates not 
only the fashion which then prevailed, of making frequent use of such 
quotations, but the fact, also, that a knowledge of both ancient and 
modern languages was very common among educated Englishmen. 
Several of Lord Chesterfield's letters, to his son and to his godson, 
were written in French, others in Latin. 



Biographical Sketch 

Philip Dormer Stanhope, fourth Earl of Chesterfield, was 
born in London, in 1694, the son of Philip Stanhope, the third Earl, 
and Elizabeth Savile, daughter of the Marquis of Halifax. He 
spent two years at Cambridge (17 12-13), where he seems to have 
studied ancient and modern languages, history, and oratory. As a 
boy he had formed the habit of early rising, which he always main- 
tained : and by a systematic use of his time he was able to accomplish 
much. He regarded his college, Trinity Hall, 4< infinitely the best 
in the University ; for it is the smallest, and filled with lawyers who 
have lived in the world, and know how to behave." His immaturity, 
not to say weakness, of character is shown by his confession to his 
son, years afterward, that when he first went to the University at 
eighteen years of age, "he drank and smoked, notwithstanding the 
aversion he had to wine and tobacco, only because he thought it 
genteel, and that it made him look like a man/' 

At the age of twenty he Jeft Cambridge for the conventional tour on 
the Continent, visiting Holland, Belgium, and Paris. He entered the 
House of Commons in 1715, and made his maiden speech on the 
impeachment of the Duke of Ormond : and, on its conclusion, was 
informed that he had rendered himself liable to a heavy fine for 
addressing the House before he had attained his majority. Although 
he afterward took frequent part in the debates of the House, his 
oratory never made the deep impression that it did in the House of 
Lords, in which he took his seat on the death of his father in 1726. 
Here his oratorical powers at once commanded attention, and 
established his reputation as one of the most eloquent speakers of his 
age. Horace Walpole, who had heard Pitt, Pulteney, Windham, and 
Carteret, as well as his own father, declared that the finest speech he 
ever heard was one delivered by Lord Chesterfield.. But this is 
probably an overestimate. 

On the accession of George II., in 1727, Lord Chesterfield became 
ambassador to The Hague, where he remained till 1732, distinguish- 

3 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 9 

ing himself by his tact, judgment, and dexterity. His services were 
rewarded by his being made a Knight of the Garter, and Lord High 
Steward. Here, at The Hague, in 1732, was born Philip Stanhope, 
the son to whom the famous letters were written. 

On his return to England he resumed his seat in the House of 
Lords, in which he was the acknowledged leader of the opposition 
for several years. He was sent the second time to The Hague in 
1744 ; and succeeded so well in his mission that he was given the 
Lord-Lieutenancy of Ireland, a post long coveted by him. 

11 Short as it was, Chesterfield's Irish administration was of great 
service to his country, and is unquestionably that part of his political 
life which does him most honor. To have conceived and carried out 
a policy which, with certain reservations, Burke himself might have 
originated and owned, is indeed no small title to regard. The earl 
showed himself finely capable in practice as in theory, vigorous and 
tolerant, a man to be feared, and a leader to be followed ; he took 
the government entirely into his own hands, repressed the jobbery 
traditional to the office, established schools and manufactures, and at 
once conciliated and kept in check the Orange and Popish factions." — 
Encyc. Brit. "It was he who first, since the revolution, had made 
that office a post of active exertion. Only a few years before, the 
Earl of Shrewsbury had given as a reason for accepting it, that it was 
a place where a man had business enough to hinder him from falling 
asleep, and not enough to keep him awake. Chesterfield, on the 
contrary, left nothing undone, nor for others to do. ... So able 
were the measures of Chesterfield ; so clearly did he impress upon 
the public mind that his moderation was not weakness, nor his 
clemency cowardice, but that, to quote his own words, ' his hand 
should be as heavy as Cromwell's ' upon them if they once forced him 
to raise it ; so well did he know how to scare the timid, while con- 
ciliating the generous, that this alarming period [1745] passed over 
with a degree of tranquillity such as Ireland has not often displayed 
even in orderly and settled times." — Lord Mahon. 

In 1746 he became Secretary of State for Ireland, from which 
position he retired in 1748, declining the dukedom offered him by 
George II. 

In 175 1, assisted by Lord Macclesfield and the mathematician 
Bradley, he contributed largely to the reform of the calendar. He 
thus describes to his son his share in the work : "I have of late been 
a sort of astronome 7?ialgre moi [an astronomer in spite of myself] by 



io BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

bringing last Monday into the House of Lords a bill for reforming 
our present calendar, and taking the New Style. Upon which 
occasion I was obliged to talk some astronomical jargon, of which I 
did not understand one word, but got it by heart, and spoke it by 
rote from a master. I wished that I had known a little more of it 
myself ; and so much I would have you know." 

This was his last important public act. Lord Chesterfield's relations 
with Dr. Johnson will always be remembered : and are here presented 
in the diction of Lord Macaulay, and of Johnson himself. 

11 The prospectus of the Dictionary he [Dr. Johnson] addressed to 
the Earl of Chesterfield. Chesterfield had long been celebrated for 
the politeness of his manners, the brilliancy of his wit, and the 
delicacy of his taste. He was acknowledged to be the finest speaker 
in the House of Lords. He had recently governed Ireland, at a 
momentous conjuncture, with eminent firmness, wisdom, and 
humanity, and he had since become Secretary of State. He received 
Johnson's homage with the most winning affability, and requited it 
with a few guineas, bestowed doubtless in a very graceful manner, 
but was by no means desirous to see all his carpets blacked with the 
London mud, and his soups and wines thrown to right and left over 
the gowns of fine ladies and the waistcoats of fine gentlemen, by an 
absent, awkward scholar, who gave strange starts and uttered strange 
growls, who dressed like a scarecrow and ate like a cormorant. Dur- 
ing some time Johnson continued to call on his patron, but, after 
being repeatedly told by the porter that his lordship was not at home, 
took the hint, and ceased to present himself at the inhospitable 
door. ... It had been generally supposed that this great work 
would be dedicated to the eloquent and accomplished nobleman to 
whom the prospectus had been addressed. He well knew the value 
of such a compliment ; and therefore, when the day of publication 
drew near, he exerted himself to soothe, by a show of zealous and at 
the same time of delicate and judicious kindness, the pride which he 
had so cruelly wounded. Since The Rambler had ceased to appear, 
the town had been entertained by a journal called The World, to 
which many men of high rank and fashion contributed. In two suc- 
cessive numbers of The World, the Dictionary was, to use the modern 
phrase, puffed w.'th wonderful skill. The writings of Johnson were 
warmly praised. It was proposed that he should be invested with 
the authority of a dictator, nay, of a pope, over our language, and 
that his decisions ^J^M - *J»» meaning and the spelling of words 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH n 

should be received as final. His two folios, it was said, would of 
course be bought by everybody who couid afford to buy them. It 
was soon known that these papers were written by Chesterfield. 
But the just resentment of Johnson was not to be appeased. In a 
letter written with singular energy and dignity of thought and lan- 
guage, he repelled the tardy advances of his patron. The Dictionary 
came forth without a dedication." 

The following is the letter above described, which did not see the 
light, however, till 1781. 

To the Right Honorable the Earl of Chesterfield. 

February 7, 1755. 

My Lord : I have been lately informed, by the proprietor of The World, that 
papers, in which my Dictionary is recommended to the public, were written by 
your Lordship. To be so distinguished is an honor which, being very little accus- 
tomed to favors from the great, I know not well how to receive, or in what terms 
to acknowledge. 

When, upon some slight encouragement, I first visited your Lordship, I was 
overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of your address, and 
could not forbear to wish that I might boast myself Le vainqneicr du vainqueur de 
la terre ; — that I might obtain that regard for which I saw the world contending ; 
but I found my attendance so little encouraged, that neither pride nor modesty 
would suffer me to continue it. When I had once addressed your Lordship in 
public. I had exhausted all the art of pleasing which a retired and uncourtly 
scholar can possess. I had done all that 1 could, and no man is well pleased to 
have his all neglected, be it ever so little. • 

Seven years, my Lord, have now passed, since I waited in your outward rooms, 
or was repulsed from your door ; during which time I have been pushing on my 
work through difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it, 
at last, to the verge of publication, without one act of assistance, one word of 
encouragement, or one smile of favor. Such treatment I did not expect, for I 
never had a patron before. 

The Shepherd of Virgil grew at last acquainted with Love, and found him a 
native of the rocks. 

Is not a patron, my Lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for 
life in the water, and, when he has reached ground, encumbers him with help ? 
The notice which you have been pleased to take of my labors, had it been early 
had been kind ; but it has been delayed till I am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it ; 
till I am solitary, and cannot impart it ; till I am known, and do not want it. I 
hope it is no very cynical asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit 
has been received, or to be unwilling that the public should consider me as owing 
that to a patron, which Providence has enabled me to do for myself. 

Having carried on my work thus far with so little obligation to any favorer of 
learning, I shall not be disappointed though I should conclude it, if it be possible, 
with less : for I have been long wakened from that dream of hope, in which I once 
boasted myself with so much exaltation, my Lord, 

Your Lordship's most humble, 

Most obedient servant, 

Sam. Johnson. 



I2 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

During the latter part of Chesterfield's life he was afflicted with 
deafness. This caused him to withdraw from public life, and 
devote himself to his books and his pen. Blindness followed. His wit 
did not forsake him. " Tyrawley and I," he said, " have been dead 
these two years, but we don't choose to have it known." Nor did his 
fine manners fail him. His last words were " Give Dayrolles a 
chair." He died March 24, 1773. 

Chesterfield married, in 1733, Melusina von Schulemberg, a 
daughter of George I. Philip Stanhope, to whom the Letters were 
addressed, bad died in 176S ; and Chesterfield made his godson, also 
named Philip Stanhope, but a distant relative, the heir to his title 
and estates. 



Lord Chesterfield's Letters 
To His Son 



Letter I 



THE VALUE OF HISTORY 



November the 20th, 1739. 
Dear Boy: As you are now reading the Roman 
History, I hope you do it with that care and attention 
which it deserves. The utility of History consists 
principally in the examples it gives us of the virtues 5 
and vices of those who have gone before us: upon 
which we ought to make the proper observations. 
History animates and excites us to the love and the 
practice of virtue; by showing us the regard and 
veneration that was always paid to great and virtuous 10 
men, in the times in which they lived, and the praise 
and glory with which their names are perpetuated, 
and transmitted down to our times. The Roman 
History furnishes more examples of virtue and mag- 
nanimity, or greatness of mind, than any other. It 15 
was a common thing to see their Consuls and Dicta- 
tors (who, you know, were their chief Magistrates) 
taken from the plow, to lead their armies against their 
enemies; and, after victory, returning to their plow 
again, and passing the rest of their lives in modest 20 
retirement: a retirement more glorious, if possible, 

13 



14 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

than the victories that preceded it! Many of their 
greatest men died so poor, that they were buried at 
the expense of the public. Curius, who had no 
money of his own, refused a great sum that the Sam- 
5 nites offered him, saying, that he saw no glory in hav- 
ing money himself, but in commanding those that 
had. Cicero relates it thus: "Curio ad focum sedenti 
magnum auri pondus Samnites cum attulissent, repudiati 
ab eo sunt. Non enim aurum habere prceclarum sibi 

10 videri, sed Us, qui haberent aurum, imperare" And 
Fabricius, who had often commanded the Roman 
armies, and as often triumphed over their enemies, 
was found by his fireside, eating those roots and herbs 
which he had planted and cultivated himself in his 

15 own field; Seneca tells it thus: Fabricius ad focum 
ccenat Mas ipsas radices, quas, in agro repurgando, tri- 
umphalis Sencx vulsit. Scipio, after a victory he had 
obtained in Spain, found among the prisoners a young 
Princess of extreme beauty, who, he was informed, 

20 was soon to have been married to a man of quality of 
that country. He ordered her to be entertained and 
attended with the same care and respect, as if she had 
been in her father's house; and, as soon as he could 
find her lover, he gave her to him, and added to her 

25 portion the money that her father had brought for 

3 Curius, M. Dentatus, who defeated Pyrrhus in 275 b. c. 

7 Curio .... imperare. Translated in lines 3 to 7. 

11 Fabricius, Caius. Like his contemporary, Dentatus, he refused large gifts 
offered by the Samnite ambassadors, and died poor. 

15 Seneca, Lucius Annseus. (3 b. 0-65 a. d.) A Roman philosopher, tutor 
of Nero, and " the most brilliant figure of his time." 

15 Fabricius .... vuJsit. Translated in lines 10 to 15. 

17 Scipio Africanus, Publius Cornelius. (b. c. 234-183.) Of a noble Roman 
family of the Cornelian gens* three members of which were particularly celebrated 
for their valor, patriotism, and generalship in the Punic wars. 



TO HIS SON 15 

her ransom. Valerius Maximus says, Eximice forme? 
virglnem accersitis parentibus, et sponso inviolatam 
tradidit, et Juvenis, et Ccelebs, et Victor. This was a 
most glorious example of moderation, continence, 
and generosity, which gained him the hearts of all 5 
the people of Spain; and made them say, as Livy tells 
us, Venisse Diis simillimum juvenetn, vinccntcm omnia, 
cum armis, turn benignitaie, ac bencficiis. 

Such are the rewards that always crown virtue ; and 
such the characters that you should imitate, if you 10 
would be a great and a good man, which is the only 
way to be a happy one! Adieu. 

Letter II 

THE AMBITIONS OF BOYS 

Dear Boy: I send you here a few more Latin 
roots, though I am not sure that you will like my 
roots so well as those that grow in your garden; how- 15 
ever, if you will attend to them, they may save you 
a great deal of trouble. These few will naturally 
point out many others to your own observation; and 
enable you, by comparison, to find out most derived 
and compound words, when once you know the origi- 20 
nal root of them. You are old enough now to make 
observations upon what you learn; which, if you 

1 Valerius Maximus. A compiler of historical anecdotes, who lived in the 
reign of Tiberius. 

1 Eximise .... Victor. Freely rendered in lines 21 to 25, p. 14. 

6 Livy. (59 B. C.-17 A. d.) A noted Roman historian. 

7 Venisse .... beneficiis. " Scipio came in the likeness of the gods, 
overcoming everything with his army, his generosity, and his good deeds." 



16 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

would be pleased to do, you cannot imagine how 
much time and trouble it would save you. Remem- 
ber, you are now very near nine yecrs old; an age at 
which all boys ought to know a great deal, but you, 
5 particularly, a great deal more, considering the care 
and pains that have been employed about you; and if 
you do not answer those expectations, you will lose 
your character; which is the most mortifying thing 
that can happen to a generous mind. Everybody 

io has ambition, of some kind or other, and is vexed 
when that ambition is disappointed: the difference is, 
that the ambition of silly people is a silly and mistaken 
ambition; and the ambition of people of sense is a 
right and commendable one. For instance; the 

15 ambition of a silly boy, of your age, would be to have 
fine clothes, and money to throw away in idle follies; 
which, you plainly see, would be no proofs of merit 
in him, but only of -folly in his parents, in dressing 
him out like a jackanapes, and giving him money to 

20 play the fool with. Whereas a boy of good sense 
places his ambition in excelling other boys of his own 
age, and even older, in virtue and knowledge. His 
glory is in being known always to speak the truth, in 
showing good-nature and compassion, in learning 

25 quicker, and applying himself more than other boys. 
These are real proofs of merit in him, and conse- 
quently proper objects of ambition; and will acquire 
him a solid reputation and character. This holds 
true in men, as well as in boys ; the ambition of a silly 

30 fellow will be, to have a fine equipage, a fine house, 
and fine clothes; things which anybody, that has as 
much money, may have as well as he; for they are 
all to be bought: but the ambition of a man of sense 



TO HIS SON 17 

and honor is, to be distinguished by a character and 
reputation of knowledge, truth, and virtue; things 
which are not to be bought, and that can only be 
acquired by a good head and a good heart. Such 
was the ambition of the Lacedaemonians and the 5 
Romans, when they made the greatest figure; and 
such, I hope, yours will always be. Adieu. 

Letter III 

good breeding 

Wednesday. 
Dear Boy: You behaved yourself so well at Mr. 
Boden's last Sunday, that you justly deserve commen- 10 
dation: besides, you encourage me to give you some 
rules of politeness and good breeding, being per- 
suaded that you will observe them. Know, then, 
that as learning, honor, and virtue are absolutely 
necessary to gain you the esteem and admiration 15 
of mankind; politeness and good breeding are equally 
necessary to make you welcome and agreeable in con- 
versation and common life. Great talents, such as 
honor, virtue, learning, and parts, are above the 
generality of the world; who neither possess them 20 
themselves, nor judge of them rightly in others: but 
all people are judges of the lesser talents, such as 
civility, affability, and an obliging, agreeable address 
and manner; because they feel the good effects of 
them, as making society easy and pleasing. Good 25 
sense must, in many cases, determine good breeding; 
because the same thing that would be civil at one 
time, and to one person, may be quite otherwise at 



1 8 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

another time, and to another person; but there are 
some general rules of good breeding, that hold always 
true, and in all cases. As, for example, it is always 
extremely rude to answer only Yes, or No, to any- 
5 body, without adding, Sir, my Lord, or Madam, 
according to the quality of the person you speak to; 
as, in French, you must always say, Monsieur, Milord, 
Madame, and Mademoiselle. I suppose you know that 
every married woman is, in French, Madame, and 

io every unmarried one is Mademoiselle. It is likewise 
extremely rude not to give the proper attention, and a 
civil answer, when people speak to you; or to go 
away, or be doing something else, while they are 
speaking to you; for that convinces them that you 

15 despise them, and do not think it worth your while to 
hear or answer what they say. I dare say I need not 
tell you how rude it is to take the best place in a room, 
or to seize immediately upon what you like at table, 
without offering first to help others, as if you con- 

20 sidered nobody but yourself. On the contrary, you 
should always endeavor to procure all the conven- 
iences you can to the people you are with. Besides 
being civil, which is absolutely necessary, the perfec- 
tion of good breeding is, to be civil with ease, and in 

25 a gentlemanlike manner. For this, you should 
observe the French people, who excel in it, and whose 
politeness seems as easy and natural as any other part 
of their conversation. Whereas the English are 
often awkw 7 ard in their civilities, and, when they mean 

30 to be civil, are too much ashamed to get it out. 
But, pray, do you remember never to be ashamed of 
doing what is right: you would have a great deal of 
reason to be ashamed if you were not civil: but what 



TO HIS SON 19 

reason can you have to be ashamed of being civil? 
And why not say a civil and an obliging thing as 
easily and as naturally as you would ask what o'clock 
it is? This kind of bashfulness, which is justly called, 
by the French, mauvaise honte, is the distinguishing 5 
character of an English booby; who is frightened 
out of his wits, when people of fashion speak to him; 
and when he is to answer them, blushes, stammers, 
can hardly get out what he would say, and becomes 
really ridiculous, from a groundless fear of being 10 
laughed at: whereas a real well-bred man would 
speak to all the Kings in the world, with as little con- 
cern, and as much ease, as he would speak to you. 

Remember, then, that to be civil, and to be civil 
with ease (which is properly called good breeding), 15 
is the only way to be beloved, and well received in 
company; that to be ill-bred, and rude, is intolerable, 
and the way to be kicked out of company; and that 
to be bashful is to be ridiculous. As I am sure you 
will mind and practice all this, I expect that when you 20 
are novennis, you will not only be the best scholar 
but the best-bred boy in England of your age. Adieu. 

Letter IV 

THE ATHENIAN OSTRACISM * 

Bath, October 14, 1740. 
Dear Boy: Since I have recommended to you to 
think upon subjects, and to consider things in their 2.5 

5 Mauvaise honte. False shame or modest}'. 
31 Novennis. Nine years old. 

* This letter, a request to assist the writer in forming his opinions, is delicate 
flattery, designed to lead the boy into the habit of thinking on important subjects. 



20 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

various lights and circumstances, I am persuaded 
you have made such a progress that I shall some- 
times desire your opinion upon difficult points, in 
order to form my own. For instance, though I have 
5 in general a great veneration for the manners and 
customs of the ancients, yet I am in some doubt 
whether the Ostracism of the Athenians was either 
just or prudent, and should be glad to be determined 
by your opinion. You know very well that the 

io Ostracism was the method of banishing those whose 
distinguished virtue made them popular, and conse- 
quently (as the Athenians thought) dangerous to the 
public liberty. And, if six hundred citizens of Athens 
gave in the name of any one Athenian, written upon an 

15 oyster-shell (from whence it is called ostracism) that 
man was banished Athens for ten years. On one hand, 
it is certain that a free people cannot be too careful or 
jealous of their liberty; and it is certain, too, that the 
love of applause of mankind will always attend a man 

20 of eminent and distinguished virtue; and, conse- 
quently, they are more likely to give up their liberties 
to such a one, than to another of less merit. But 
then, on the other hand, it seems extraordinary to 
discourage virtue upon any account, since it is only 

25 by virtue that any society can flourish and be con- 
siderable. There are many more arguments, on each 
side of the question, which will naturally occur to 
you; and, w T hen you have considered them well, I 
desire you will write me your opinion whether the 

30 Ostracism was a right or a wrong thing, and your 
reasons for being of that opinion. Let nobody help 
you; but give me exactly your own sentiments, and 
your own reasons, whatever they are. 



TO HIS SON 21 



Letter V 

the use of others' thoughts.* proper use of 
epithets 

Thursday. 

Dear Boy: You will seldom hear from me, without 
an admonition to think. All you learn, and all you 
can read, will be of little use, if you do not think and 
reason upon it yourself. One reads, to know other 5 
people's thoughts; but if we take them upon trust, 
without examining them and comparing them with 
our own, it is really living upon other people's goods. 
To know the thoughts of others is of use, because it 
suggests thoughts to one's self, and helps to form a 10 
judgment; but to repeat other people's thoughts, 
without considering whether they are right or wrong, 
is the talent only of a parrot, or at most a player. 

If Night were given you as a subject to compose 
upon, you would do very well to look what the best 15 
authors have said upon it, in order to help your own 
invention; but then you must think of it afterward 
yourself, and express it in your own manner, or else 
you would be at best but a plagiary. A plagiary is a 
man who steals other people's thoughts, and puts 20 
them off for his own. You would find, for example, 
the following account of Night in Virgil: 

" It was now night, and the weary ones were enjoying sweet slumber 
Through all the earth ; the woods and wild waves were at rest from 

their raging, 25 

While in the midst of their orbits the stars glide on in their 

courses, 

22 Night in Virgil. Lord Chesterfield quotes the original (^Eneid, IV. 522-528) 
for which a translation by Howknd is substituted. 



22 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

While every field is hushed, the flocks and the birds of gay plum- 
age, 

Those that inhabit the liquid lakes, or the rough fields and 
thickets ; 
5 Through the deep silence of night, these all are buried in slumber, 

Soothing their anxious cares, and their hearts forgetful of sorrow." 

Here you see the effects of Night; that it brings 
rest to men when they are wearied with the labors of 
the day; that the stars move in their regular courses; 

io that flocks and birds repose themselves, and enjoy 
the quiet of the night. This, upon examination, you 
would find to be all true; but then, upon considera- 
tion, too, you would find that it is not all that is to 
be said upon Night, and many more qualities and 

15 effects of night would occur to you. As for instance, 
though night is in general the time for quiet and re- 
pose, yet it is often the time for the commission and 
security of crimes, such as robberies, murders, and 
violations, which generally seek the advantage of 

20 darkness, as favorable for the escapes of the guilty. 
Night, too, though it brings rest and refreshment to 
the innocent and virtuous, brings disquiet and horror 
to the guilty. The consciousness of their crimes 
torments them and denies them sleep and quiet. You 

25 might, from these reflections, consider what would be 
the proper epithets to give to Night; as, for example, 
if you were to represent Night in its most pleasing 
shape, as procuring quiet and refreshment from 
labor and toil, you might call it the friendly Night, 

30 the silent Night, the welcome Night, the peaceful Night ; 
but if, on the contrary, you were to -represent it as 
inviting to the commission of crimes, you would call 
it the guilty Night, the conscious Night, the horrid 



TO HIS SON 23 

Night, with many other epithets that carry along with 
them the idea of horror and guilt; for an epithet, to 
be proper, must always be adapted (that is, suited) 
to the circumstances of the person or thing to which 
it is given. Thus, Virgil, who generally gives ^neas 5 
the epithet of pious, because of his piety to the gods 
and his duty to his father, calls him Dux ^Eneas where 
he represents him making love to Dido, as a proper 
epithet for him in that situation: because making love 
becomes a general much better than a man of singular 10 
piety. 

Lay aside, for a few minutes, the thoughts of play, 
and think of this seriously. 

Amoto quczramus seria ludo. 

Adieu! 15 

Letter VI 

THE EVILS OF AWKWARDNESS 

Spa, the 25th July, N. S. 1741. 
Dear Boy: I have often told you in my former 
letters (and it is most certainly true) that the strictest 
and most scrupulous honor and virtue can alone 
make you esteemed and valued by mankind; that 20 
parts and learning can alone make you admired and 
celebrated by them; but that the possession of lesser 
talents was most absolutely necessary toward making 
you liked, beloved, and sought after in private life. 
Of these lesser talents, good breeding is the principal 25 
and most necessary one, not only as it is very impor- 

7 Dux : a leader or general. 

14 Amoto .... ludo. Horace, Satires, I. i, 27. " Let us cease our play 
and seek serious matters." 



24 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

tant in itself, but as it adds great luster to the more 
solid advantages both of the heart and the mind. I 
have often touched upon good breeding to you before, 
so that this letter shall be upon the next necessary 
5 qualification to it, which is a genteel, easy manner and 
carriage, wholly free from those odd tricks, ill habits, 
and awkwardnesses which even many very worthy and 
sensible people have in their behavior. However 
trifling a genteel manner may sound, it is of very great 

io consequence toward pleasing in private life, especially 
the women, which, one time or other, you will think 
worth pleasing; and I have known many a man, from 
his awkwardness, give people such a dislike of him 
at first, that all his merit could not get the better of 

15 it afterward. Whereas a genteel manner prepossesses 
people in your favor, bends them toward you, and 
makes them wish to like you. Awkwardness can pro- 
ceed but from two causes — either from not having 
kept good company, or from not having attended 

20 to it. As for your keeping good company, I will 
take care of that; do you take care to observe their 
ways and manners, and to form your own upon them. 
Attention is absolutely necessary for this, as indeed it 
is for everything else, and a man without attention 

25 is not fit to live in the world. When an awkward 
fellow first comes into a room, it is highly probable 
that his sword gets between his legs and throws him 
down, or makes him stumble, at least. When he has 
recovered this accident, he goes and places himself 

30 in the very place of the whole room where he should 
not; there he soon lets his hat fall down, and in taking 

27 His sword. In Lord Chesterfield's time, a dress suit included a dress 
sword. 



TO HIS SON 25 

it up again, throws down his cane; in recovering his 
cane, his hat falls a second time; so that he is a 
quarter of an hour before he is in order again. If 
he drinks tea or coffee he certainly scalds his mouth, 
and lets either the cup or the saucer fall, and spills 5 
the tea or coffee in his breeches. At dinner his awk- 
wardness distinguishes itself particularly, as he has 
more to do: there he holds his knife, fork, and spoon 
differently from other people; eats with his knife to 
the great danger of his mouth; picks his teeth with 10 
his fork, and puts his spoon, which has been in his 
throat twenty times, into the dishes again. If he is 
to carve, he can never hit the joint, but, in his vain 
efforts to cut through the bone, scatters the sauce in 
everybody's face. He generally daubs himself with 15 
soup and grease, though his napkin is commonly 
stuck through a botton-hole and tickles his chin. 
When he drinks he infallibly coughs in his glass, and 
besprinkles the company. His hands are trouble- 
some to him when he has not something in them, 20 
and he does not know where to put them; but they 
are in perpetual motion between his bosom and his 
breeches: he does not wear his clothes, and, in short, 
does nothing, like other people. All this, I own, is 
not in any degree criminal; but it is highly disagree- 25 
able and ridiculous in company, and ought most care- 
fully to be avoided by whoever desires to please. 

From this account of what you should not do, you 
may easily judge what you should do; and a due 
attention to the manners of people of fashion, and 30 
who have seen the world, will make it habitual and 
familiar to you. 

There is, likewise, an awkwardness of expression 



26 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

and words, most carefully to be avoided; such as false 
English, bad pronunciation, old sayings, and com- 
mon proverbs; which are so many proofs of having 
kept bad and low company. For example; if, instead 
5 of saying that tastes are different, and that every man 
has his own peculiar one, you should let off a proverb, 
and say, That what is one man's meat is another 
man's poison; or else, Everyone as they like, as the 
good man said when he kissed his cow; everybody 

10 would be persuaded that you had never kept company 
with anybody above footmen and housemaids. 

Attention will do all this; and without attention 
nothing is to be done: want of attention, which is 
really want of thought, is either folly or madness. 

15 You should not only have attention to everything, 
but a quickness of attention, so as to observe, at once, 
all the people in the room, their motions, their looks, 
and their words, and yet without staring at them, 
and seeming to be an observer. This quick and 

20 unobserved observation is of infinite advantage in life, 
and is to be acquired with care; and, on the contrary, 
what is called absence, which is a thoughtlessness, 
and want of attention about what is doing, makes 
a man so like either a fool or a madman, that for 

25 my part I see no real difference. A fool never has 
thought; a madman has lost it; and an absent man 
is, for the time, without it. Adieu. 



TO HIS SO AT 27 

Letter VII 

A SEVERE REPROOF * 

Dublin, January the 25th, 1745. 
Dear Boy: As there are now four mails due from 
England, one of which, at least, will, I suppose, bring 
me a letter from you, I take this opportunity of 
acknowledging it beforehand, that you may not accuse 5 
me (as you once or twice have done) of negligence. 
I am very glad to find, by your letter which I am to 
receive, that you are determined to apply yourself 
seriously to your business ; to attend to what you learn, 
in order to learn it well; and to reflect and reason 10 
upon what you have learned, that your learning may 
be of use to you. These are very good resolutions, 
and I applaud you mightily for them. Now for your 
last letter, which I have received. You rebuke me 
very severely for not knowing, or at least not remem- 15 
bering, that you have been some time in the fifth 
form. Here, I confess, I am at a loss what to say 
for myself; for, on the one hand, I own it is not 
probable that you would not, at the time, have com- 
municated an event of that importance to me ; and, 20 
on the other hand, it is not likely that, if you had 
informed me of it, I could have forgotten it. You 
say that it happened six months ago; in which, with 
all due submission to you, I apprehend you are mis- 
taken, because that must have been before I left Eng- 25 
land, which I am sure it w r as not; and it does not 

* This letter was written while Lord Chesterfield was Lord-Lieutenant of 
Ireland. 



28 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

appear, in any of your original manuscripts, that it 
happened since. May not this possibly proceed from 
the oscitancy of the writer? To this oscitancy of the 
librarians, we owe so many mistakes, hiatuses, lacunae, 
5 etc., in ancient manuscripts. It may here be neces- 
sary to explain to you the meaning of the Oscitantes 
librarii; which, I believe, you will easily take. These 
persons (before printing was invented) transcribed 
the works of authors, sometimes for their own profit, 

io but oftener (as they were generally slaves) for the 
profit of their masters. In the first case, dispatch, 
more than accuracy, was their object; for the faster 
they wrote the more they got: in the latter case 
(observe this), as it was a task imposed on them, 

15 which they did not dare to refuse, they were idle, care- 
less, and incorrect ; not giving themselves the trouble to 
read over what they had written. The celebrated 
Atticus kept a great number of these transcribing 
slaves, and got great sums of money by their labors. 

20 But, to return now to your fifth form, from whence 
I have strayed, it may be, too long; Pray what do you 
do in that country? Be so kind as to give me a 
description of it. What Latin and Greek books do you 
read there? Are your exercises exercises of invention? 

25 or do you still put the bad English of the psalms into 

8 Oscitancy. Laziness. 

4 Librarians. Copyists. 

4 Lacunae. Gaps, or defects. 

6 Oscitantes librarii. Lazy scribes. 

18 Atticus. T. Pomponius. (b. c. 109-32.) Called Atticus from his long 
residence in Athens, and his familiarity with Greek literature. A friend of Cicero, 
and a lever of books. He owned " transcribing slaves, and book-binders, also." 
Cicero thanks him for the services of two such slaves, who put Cicero's library in 
good repair. For an interesting chapter on libraries in ancient Rome, see Lan- 
ciani's Ancient Rome in the Light of Recent Discoveries. 



TO HIS SON 29 

bad Latin, and only change the shape of Latin verse, 
from long to short, and from short to long? People 
do not improve, singly, by traveling, but by the 
observations they make, and by keeping good com- 
pany where they do travel. So I hope, in your trav- 5 
els, through the fifth form, you keep company with 
Horace and Cicero, among the Romans; and Homer 
and Xenophon, among the Greeks; and that you are 
got out of the worst company in the world, the Greek 
epigrams. Martial has wit, and is worth your look- 10 
ing into sometimes; but I recommend the Greek epi- 
grams to your supreme contempt. Good-night to you. 

Letter VIII 

TRIFLES 

Dublin Castle, November the 19th, 1745. 
Dear Boy: Now that the Christmas breaking up 
draws near, I have ordered Mr. Desnoyers to go to 15 
you, during that time, to teach you to dance. I desire 
you will particularly attend to the graceful motion of 
your arms; which, with the manner of putting on your 
hat, and giving your hand, is all that a gentleman 
need attend to. Dancing is in itself a very trifling, 20 
silly thing; but it is one of those established follies 
to which people of sense are sometimes obliged to 

1 Latin verse. The writing of Latin verses forms an important part of a 
pupil's duties in an English classical school. 

10 Martial. M. Valerius Martialis. (a. d. 43-104.) A Roman poet who wrote 
his epigrams in Greek, in fourteen books. Roman scholars spoke and wrote 
Greek as well as Latin. Scipio Africanus (mentioned in Letter I.) spoke Greek and 
Latin with equal fluency, and wrote his memoirs in Greek. The Emperor Marcus 
Aurelius (a. d. 121-180) wrote his famous " Meditations " in Greek. 



3° LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

conform; and then they should be able to do it well. 
And, though I would not have you a dancer, yet, 
when you do dance, I would have you dance well, 
as I would have you do everything you do well. 
5 There is no one thing so trifling, but which (if it is 
to be done at all) ought to be done well. And I have 
often told you, that I wished you even played at pitch, 
and cricket, better than any boy at Westminster. For 
instance; dress is a very foolish thing; and yet it is 

io a very foolish thing for a man not to be well dressed, 
according to his rank and way of life; and it is so far 
from being a disparagement to any man's understand- 
ing, that it is rather a proof of it, to be as well dressed 
as those whom he lives with: the difference in this 

15 case, between a man of sense and a fop, is, that the 



E Westminster. One of the great English public schools, not public in the 
American sense of free, but famous boarding schools for the sons of English 
nobility and gentry. A fair idea of one of these schools at the time young Stan- 
hope was a pupil at Westminster can be obtained from Professor Goldwin Smith's 
description of Eton : 

"At Eton the curriculum was in those days almost entirely classical, even 
mathematics being taught out of school, and not as a regular part of the course. 
Not only was the curriculum classical, but it was purely philological ; it did not 
include ancient history or philosophy. Greek and Latin composition was the 
exercise most valued, and in this great excellence, for boys, was certainly attained, 
as an inspection of the Musce Etonenses [Eton Muses] will show. There was little 
effort on the part of the masters generally to exercise any moral influence over the 
boys, to mold their character, or impress them with a sense of responsibility. 
The boys were left to be a law to each other, and their standard was simply that of 
the class from which they came : high in respect to manners and as to the point 
of honor, but with regard to morality not so high. The discipline consisted in a 
set of cast iron and sometimes antiquated regulations, to which everyone rendered 
a sort of military obedience without asking the reason. It was enforced by rather 
free use of corporal punishment, which, however, did not break the spirit of the 
boys, or render them less sensitive about their honor, which they were ready 
enough to avenge by fighting whenever they deemed themselves insulted." — 
Educational Review* December, 1892. See also " Tom Brown's School Days at 
Rugby." Lord Chesterfield appears to have had a poor opinion of Westminster 
School, which, he says, "is undoubtedly the seat of illiberal manners and brutal 
behavior." 



TO HIS SON 3r 

fop values himself upon his dress; and the man of 
sense laughs at it, at the same time that he knows 
he must not neglect it. There are a thousand foolish 
customs of this kind, which not being criminal must 
be complied with, and even cheerfully, by men of 5 
sense. Diogenes the Cynic was a wise man for 
despising them; but a fool for showing it. Be wiser 
than other people, if you can; but do not tell them so. 
It is a very fortunate thing for Sir Charles Hotham 
to have fallen into the hands of one of your age, 10 
experience, and knowledge of the world; I am per- 
suaded you will take infinite care of him. Good- 
night. 

Letter IX 

inattention: observation 

Dublin Castle, March 10, 1746. 

Sir: I most thankfully acknowledge the honor of 15 
two or three letters from you, since I troubled you 
with my last; and am very proud of the repeated 
instances you give me of your favor and protection, 
which I shall endeavor to deserve. 

I am very glad that you w r ent to hear a trial in the 20 
Court of King's Bench: and still more so, that you 
made the proper animadversions upon the inatten- 
tion of many of the people in the Court. As you 
observed very well the indecency of that inattention, 
I am sure you will never be guilty of anything like 25 

6 Diogenes the Cynic. (About b. c. 412-323.) He despised even the com- 
forts of life. 
9 Sir Charles Hotham. A young friend of Mr. Stanhope. 
81 Court of King's Bench. A court over which the king formerly presided. 



32 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

it yourself. There is no surer sign in the world of 
a little, weak mind than inattention. Whatever is 
worth doing at all is worth doing well; and nothing 
can be well done without attention. It is the sure 
5 answer of a fool, when you ask him about anything 
that was said or done where he was present, that 
" truly he did not mind it." And why did not the 
fool mind it? What else had he to do there but to 
mind what he was doing? A man of sense sees, hears, 

io and retains everything that passes where he is. I 
desire I may never hear you talk of not minding, nor 
complain, as most fools do, of a treacherous memory. 
Mind not only what people say but how they say it; 
and if you have any sagacity, you may discover more 

15 truth by your eyes than by your ears. People can 
say what they will, but they cannot look just as they 
will; and their looks frequently discover what their 
words are calculated to conceal. Observe, therefore, 
people's looks carefully when they speak, not only to 

20 you, but to each other. I have often guessed by 
people's faces what they were saying, though I could 
not hear one word they said. The most material 
knowledge of all — I mean the knowledge of the world 
— is never to be acquired without great attention; 

25 and I know many old people, who, though they have 
lived long in the world, are but children still as to 
the knowledge of it, from their levity and inattention. 
Certain forms which all people comply with, and cer- 
tain arts which all people aim at, hide in some degree 

30 the truth and give a general exterior resemblance to 

16 People can say, etc. An experienced diplomatist. Lord Chesterfield had 
verified Talleyrand's saying that it is the province of language to conceal one's 
thoughts. 



TO HIS SON 33 

almost everybody. Attention and sagacity must see 
through that veil and discover the natural character. 
You are at an age now to reflect, to observe and com- 
pare characters, and to arm yourself against the 
common arts, — at least of the world. If a man with 5 
whom you are barely acquainted, and to whom you 
have made no offers nor given any marks of friend- 
ship, makes you on a sudden strong professions of 
his [friendship], receive them with civility, but do not 
repay them with confidence; he certainly means to 10 
deceive you, for one man does not fall in love with 
another at sight. If a man uses strong protestations 
or oaths to make you believe a thing which is of itself 
so likely and probable that the bare saying of it would 
be sufficient, depend upon it he lies, and is highly 15 
interested in making you believe it; or else he would 
not take so much pains. 

In about five weeks I propose having the honor 
of laying myself at your feet, — which I hope to find 
grown longer than they were when I left them. 20 
Adieu. 

Letter X 

THE FOLLY OF WHOLESALE DENUNCIATION 

April s, 1746. 
Dear Boy: Before it is very long, I am of opinion 
that you will both think and speak more favorably 
of women than you do now. You seem to think that 25 
from Eve downward they have done a great deal 
of mischief. As for that lady, I give her up to you: 

24 Young Stanhope had probably spoken slightingly of women, as many a silly 
boy has since. 



34 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

but since her time, history will inform you that men 
have done much more mischief in the world than 
women; and to say the truth, I would not advise you 
to trust either more than is absolutely necessary. But 
5 this I will advise you to, which is, never to attack 
whole bodies of any kind; for besides that all general 
rules have their exceptions, you unnecessarily make 
yourself a great number of enemies by attacking a 
corps collectively. Among women, as among men, 

10 there are good as well as bad; and it may be full as 
many or more good than among men. This rule 
holds as to lawyers, soldiers, parsons, courtiers, citi- 
zens, etc. They are all men, subject to the same pas- 
sions and sentiments, differing only in the manner, 

15 according to their several educations; and it would 
be as imprudent as unjust to attack any of them by 
the lump. Individuals forgive sometimes; but bodies 
and societies never do. Many young people think 
it very genteel and witty to abuse the clergy ; in which 

20 they are extremely mistaken, since in my opinion par' 
sons are very like men, and neither the better nor 
the worse for wearing a black gown. All general 
reflections upon nations and societies are the trite, 
threadbare jokes of those who set up for wit without 

25 having any, and so have recourse to commonplace. 
Judge of individuals from your own knowledge of 
them, and not from their sex, profession, or 
denomination. 



TO HIS SON 35 

Letter XI 

THE INTELLIGENT TRAVELER 

Bath, Sept. 29, O. S. 1746. 
Dear Boy: I received by the last mail your letter 
cf the 23 N. S. from Heidelberg, and am very well 
pleased to find that you inform yourself of the par- 
ticulars of the several places you go through. You 5 
do mighty right to see the curiosities in those several 
places, such as the Golden Bull at Frankfort, the Tun 
at Heidelberg, etc. Other travelers see and talk of 
them; it is very proper to see them, too, but remem- 
ber that seeing is the least material object of travel- 10 
ing, — hearing and knowing are the essential points. 
Therefore pray let your inquiries be chiefly directed 
to the knowledge of the constitution and particular 
customs of the places where you either reside at or 
pass through, whom they belong to, by what right 15 
and tenure, and since when; in whom the supreme 
authority is lodged, and by what magistrates, and in 
what manner, the civil and criminal justice is adminis- 
tered. It is likewise necessary to get as much 
acquaintance as you can, in order to observe the 20 
characters and manners of the people; for though 
human nature is in truth the same through the whole 
human species, yet it is so differently modified and 
varied by education, habit, and different customs, that 

7 Golden Bull. A decree of the Emperor Charles IV., confirming the right of 
electing a German emperor in three spiritual and four temporal electors. A gold 
seal was affixed to the original document. 

7 Tun. A large cask said to be 24 feet in diameter and 30 feet deep, contain- 
ing 49,000 gallons. 



36 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

one should, upon a slight and superficial observation, 
almost think it different. 

As I have never been in Switzerland myself, I must 
desire you to inform me, now and then, of the con- 
5 stitution of that country. As, for instance, do the 
Thirteen Cantons jointly and collectively form one 
government where the supreme authority is lodged, 
or is each canton sovereign in itself, and under no 
tie or constitutional obligation of acting in common 

io concert with the other cantons? Can any one canton 
make war or form an alliance with a foreign power 
without the consent of the other twelve or at least 
a majority of them? Can one canton declare war 
against another? If every canton is sovereign and 

15 independent in itself, in whom is the supreme power 
of that canton lodged? Is it in one man, or in a 
certain number of men? If in one man, what is he 
called? If in a number, what are they called, — 
Senate, Council, or what? I do not suppose that you 

20 can yet know these things yourself; but a very little 
inquiry of those who do will enable you to answer 
me these few questions in your next. You see, I 
am sure, the necessity of knowing these things 
thoroughly, and consequently the necessity of con- 

25 versing much with the people of the country, who 
alone can inform you rightly; whereas, most of the 
English who travel converse only with each other, 
and consequently know no more when they return to 
England than they did when they left it. This pro- 

6 Thirteen Cantons at that time : twenty two since 1815. A study of Swiss 
political institutions, such as is here suggested by Lord Chesterfield, should have 
great interest for American youth. An English writer remarks, wt Swiss history is 
a study in federalism.' 1 '' 



TO HIS SON 37 

ceeds from a mauvaise honte which makes them 
ashamed of going into company; and frequently, too, 
from the want of the necessary language (French) to 
enable them to bear their part in it. As for the 
mauvaise honte, I hope you are above it. Your figure 5 
is like other people's; I suppose you will care that 
your dress shall be so, too, and to avoid any singu- 
larity. What, then, should you be ashamed of, and 
why not go into a mixed company with as much ease 
and as little concern as you would go into your own 10 
room? Vice and ignorance are the only things I 
know which one ought to be ashamed of; keep but 
clear of them and you may go anywhere without fear 
or concern. I have known some people who, from 
feeling the pain and inconveniences of this mauvaise 15 
honte, have rushed into the other extreme and turned 
impudent, as cowards sometimes grow desperate from 
the excess of danger; but this, too, is carefully to be 
avoided, there being nothing more generally shock- 
ing than impudence. The medium between these 20 
two extremes marks out the well-bred man; he feels 
himself firm and easy in all companies; is modest 
without being bashful, and steady without being 
impudent; if he is a stranger, he observes with care 
the manners and ways of the people most esteemed 25 
at that place, and conforms to them with complais- 
ance. Instead of finding fault with the customs of 
that place and telling the people that the English 
ones are a thousand times better, — as my country- 
men are very apt to do, — he commends their table, 30 
their dress, their houses, and their manners a little 
more, it may be, than he really thinks they deserve. 
But this degree of complaisance is neither criminal 



\ 



3& LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

nor abject, and is but a small price to pay for the 
good-will and affection of the people you converse 
with. As the generality of people are weak enough 
to be pleased with these little things, those who refuse 
5 to please them so cheaply are, in my mind, weaker 
than they. 



Letter XII 

THE KNOWLEDGE OF BOOKS AND OF MEN 

Bath, Oct. 4th, O. S. 1746. 
Dear Boy: ... I have often of late, reflected 
what an unhappy man I must now have been, if 

10 1 had not acquired in my youth some fund and 
taste of learning. What could I have done with 
myself, at this age, without them? I must, as 
many ignorant people do, have destroyed my health 
and faculties by sotting away the evenings; or, by 

15 wasting them frivolously in the tattle of women's 
company, must have exposed myself to the ridicule 
and contempt of those very women; or, lastly, I 
must have hanged myself, as a man once did, for 
weariness of putting on and pulling off his shoes and 

20 stockings every day. My books, and only my books, 
are now left me; and I daily find what Cicero 
says of learning to be true: " Hcec studia (says he) 

5 Weaker than they. No one should be deceived by this casuistry, which 
his lordship has himself condemned in Letter XXII. The sacrifice of truth is never 
made " cheaply." 

22 Hsec studia .... rusticantur. A famous passage from Cicero ; 
" Learning is the food of youth, the delight of old age : it is an ornament in pros- 
perity, a refuge and a solace in adversity : it is a delight at home, and no impedi- 



TO HIS SON 39 

adolescentiam alunt, senectntem oblectant, secundas res 
ornant, advcrsis perfugium ac solatium prcebent, delectant 
domi, non impedhint foris, pemoctant nobiscum, pere- 
grinantur, rusticantar." 

I do not mean, by this, to exclude conversation out 5 
of the pleasures of an advanced age ; on the contrary, 
it is a very great and a very rational pleasure, at all 
ages; but the conversation of the ignorant is no con- 
versation, and gives even them no pleasure: they tire 
of their own sterility, and have not matter enough 10 
to furnish them with words to keep up a conversation. 

Let me, therefore, most earnestly recommend to 
you to hoard up, while you can, a great stock of 
knowledge; for though, during the dissipation of your 
youth, you may not have occasion to spend much of 15 
it, yet you may depend upon it that a time will come, 
when you will want it to maintain you. Public 
granaries are filled in plentiful years; not that it is 
known that the next, or the second, or the third year 
will prove a scarce one, but because it is known that 20 
sooner or later such a year will come, in which the 
grain will be wanted. 

I will say no more to you upon this subject; you 
have Mr. Harte with you to enforce it; you have 
Reason to assent to the truth of it; so that, in short, 25 
" you have Moses and the Prophets ; if you will not 
believe them, neither will you believe, though one 
rose from the dead." — Do not imagine that the knowl- 
edge, which I so much recommend to you, is confined 

ment abroad : it stays with us during the night, in our wanderings, in our country 
homes." 

24 Mr. Harte. The boy's tutor. 

86 " You have Moses," etc. St. Luke, xvi. 31. 



40 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

to books, pleasing, useful, and necessary as that 
knowledge is : but I comprehend in it the great knowl- 
edge of the world, still more necessary than that of 
books. In truth, they assist one another reciprocally; 
5 and no man will have either perfectly who has not 
both. The knowledge of the world is only to be 
acquired in the world, and not in a closet. Books 
alone will never teach it you; but they will suggest 
many things to your observation, which might other- 

10 wise escape you; and your own observations upon 
mankind, when compared with those which you will 
find in books, will help you to fix the true poinL 

To know mankind well requires full as much atten- 
tion and application as to know books, and, it may 

15 be, more sagacity and discernment. I am, at this 
time, acquainted with many elderly people, who have 
all passed their whole lives in the great world, but 
with such levity and inattention, that they know no 
more of it now than they did at fifteen. Do not flatter 

20 yourself, therefore, with the thoughts that you can 
acquire this knowledge in the frivolous chit-chat of 
idle companies: no, you must go much deeper than 
that. You must look into people, as well as at them. 
Almost all people are born with all the passions, to 

25 a certain degree; but almost every man has a prevail- I 
ing one, to which the others are subordinate. Search \\ 
everyone for that ruling passion ; pry into the recesses \ 
of his heart, and observe the different workings of 
the same passion in different people. And, when you 

30 have found out the prevailing passion of any man, 
remember never to trust him, where that passion is 
concerned. Work upon him by it, if you please, but 



TO HIS SON 41 

be upon your guard yourself against it, whatever pro- 
fessions he may make you. 
Adieu. 

Chesterfield. 

Letter XIII 

THOUGHTFULNESS 

Bath, October the 9th, O. S. 1746. 5 
Dear Boy: Your distresses in your journey from 
Heidelberg to Schaffhausen, your lying upon straw, 
your black bread, and your broken Berline, are proper 
seasonings for the greater fatigues and distresses, 
which you must expect in the course of your travels ; 10 
and, if one had a mind to moralize, one might call 
them samples of the accidents, rubs, and difficulties, 
which every man meets with in his journey through 
life. In this journey, the understanding is the voiture 
that must carry you through; and in proportion as 15 
that is stronger or weaker, more or less in repair, your 
journey w r ill be better or worse; though, at best, you 
will now and then find some bad roads, and some 
bad inns. Take care, therefore, to keep that neces- 
sary voiture in perfect good repair; examine, improve, 20 
and strengthen it every day: it is in the power and 
ought to be the care, of every man to do it; he that 
neglects it deserves to feel, and certainly will feel, the 
fatal effects of that negligence. 

A propos of negligence ; I must say something to 25 
you upon that subject. You know I have often told 

8 Berline. A traveling carriage. 
14 Voiture. Carnage. 



42 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

you that my affection for you was not a weak, woman- 
ish one; and, far from blinding me, it makes me but 
more quick-sighted as to your faults: those it is not 
only my right, but my duty to tell you of, and it is 
5 your duty and your interest to correct them. In the 
strict scrutiny which I have made into you, I have 
(thank God) hitherto not discovered any vice of the 
heart, or any peculiar weakness of the head: but I 
have discovered laziness, inattention, and indiffer- 

ioence; faults which are only pardonable in old men, 
who, in the decline of life, when health and spirits 
fail, have a kind of claim to that sort of tranquillity. 
But a young man should be ambitious to shine and 
excel; alert, active, and indefatigable in the means of 

15 doing it; and, like Caesar, Nil actum reputans, si quid 
superesset agendum. You seem to want that vivida 
vis animi which spurs and excites most young men 
to please, to shine, to excel. Without the desire and 
the pains necessary to be considerable, depend upon 

20 it you never can be so; as, without the desire and 
attention necessary to please, you never can please. 
Nullum numen abest, si sit prudentia, is unquestionably 
true with regard f o everything except poetry; and I 
am very sure that any man of common understanding 

25 may, by proper culture, care, attention, and labor, 
make himself whatever he pleases except a good poet. 
Your destination is the great and busy world; your 
immediate object is the affairs, the interests, and the 

15 Nil actum .... agendum. "Think nothing done as long as anything 
remains undone " 

16 Vivida vis animi. Vigorous force of mind 

22 Nullum numen abest, si sit prudentia. " Every power is present when 
application is present." See note to line 12, page 157. 



TO HIS SOIV 43 

history, the constitutions, the customs, and the 
manners of the several parts of Europe. In this any 
man of common sense may, by common application, 
be sure to excel. Ancient and Modern History are, 
by attention, easily attainable. Geography and Chro- 5 
nology the same ; none of them requiring any uncom- 
mon share of genius or invention. Speaking and 
writing clearly, correctly, and with ease and grace, 
are certainly to be acquired by reading the best 
authors with care, and by attention to the best living 10 
models. These are the qualifications more particu- 
larly necessary for you in your department, which 
you may be possessed of if you please, and which, 
I tell you fairly, I shall be very angry at you if you 
are not; because, as you have the means in your 15 
hands, it will be your own fault only. 

If care and application are necessary to the acquir- 
ing of those qualifications, without which you can 
never be considerable nor make a figure in the world, 
they are not less necessary with regard to the lesser 20 
accomplishments, w r hich are requisite to make you 
agreeable and pleasing in society. In truth, what-, 
ever is worth doing at all is worth doing well, and 
nothing can be done well without attention: I there- 
fore carry the necessity of attention down to the low- 25 
est things, even to dancing and dress. Custom has 
made dancing sometimes necessary for a young man ; 
therefore mind it while you learn it, that you may 
learn to do it well, and not be ridiculous, though in 
a ridiculous act. Dress is of the same nature; you 30 

12 Your department. Lord Chesterfield intended his son for a public 
career. 



44 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

must dress, therefore attend to it; not in order to 
rival or to excel a fop in it, but in order to avoid 
singularity, and consequently ridicule. Take great 
care always to be dressed like the reasonable people 
5 of your own age, in the place where you are, whose 
dress is never spoken of one way or another, as either 
too negligent or too much studied. 

What is commonly called an absent man, is com- 
monly either a very weak or a very affected man; but 

io be he which he will, he is, I am sure, a very dis- 
agreeable man in company. He fails in all the 
common offices of civility; he seems not to know 
those people to-day with whom yesterday he appeared 
to live in intimacy. He takes no part in the general 

15 conversation; but, on the contrary, breaks into it 
from time to time with some start of his own, as if 
he waked from a dream. This (as I said before) is 
a sure indication either of a mind so weak that it is 
not able to bear above one object at a time; or so 

20 affected, that it would be supposed to be wholly 
engrossed by, and directed to, some very great and 
important objects. Sir Isaac Newton, Mr. Locke, 
and (it may be) five or six more, since the creation of 
the world, may have had a right to absence, from 

25 that intense thought which the things they were 
investigating required. But if a young man, and a 
man of the world, who has no such avocations to 
plead, will claim and exercise that right of absence 
in company, his pretended right should, in my mind, 

30 be turned into an involuntary absence, by his per- 
petual exclusion out of company. However frivolous 

22 Newton ; Locke. Both noted for absent-mindedness. 



TO HIS SON 45 

a company may be, still, while you are among them, 
do not show them, by your inattention, that you think 
them so; but rather take their tone, and conform in 
some degree to their weakness, instead of manifesting 
your contempt for them. There is nothing that 5 
people bear more impatiently, or forgive less, than 
contempt: and an injury is much sooner forgotten 
than an insult. 

My long and frequent letters which I send you, in 
great doubt of their success, put me in mind of cer- 10 
tain papers which you have very lately, and I for- 
merly, sent up to kites, along the string, which we 
called messengers; some of them the wind used to 
blow away, others were torn by the string, and but 
few of them got up and stuck to the kite. But I will 15 
content myself now, as I did then, if some of my 
present messengers do but stick to you. Adieu. 



Letter XIV 

TRUE PLEASURE NOT VICE 

London, March the 27th, O. S. 1747. 
Dear Boy: Pleasure is the rock which most young 
people split upon; they launch out with crowded sails 20 
in quest of it, but without a compass to direct their 
course, or reason sufficient to steer the vessel; for 
want of which, pain and shame, instead of Pleasure, 
are the returns of their voyage. Do not think that 
I mean to snarl at Pleasure, like a Stoic, or to preach 25 
against it, like a Parson; no, I mean to point it out, 
and recommend it to you, like an Epicurean: I wish 



4^ LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

you a great deal, and my only view is to hinder you 
from mistaking it. 

The character which most young men first aim at 
is, that of a Man of Pleasure; but they generally take 

5 it upon trust; and instead of consulting their own 
taste and inclinations, they blindly adopt whatever 
those with whom they chiefly converse are pleased to 
call by the name of Pleasure; and a Man of Pleasure ,• 
in the vulgar acceptation of that phrase, means only 

10 a beastly drunkard, an abandoned rake, and a profli- 
gate swearer and curser. As it may be of use to you, 
I am not unwilling, though at the same time ashamed, 
to own that the vices of my youth proceeded much 
more from my silly resolution of being what I heard 

15 called a Man of Pleasure, than from my own inclina- 
tions. I always naturally hated drinking; and yet 
I have often drunk, with disgust at the time, attended 
by great sickness the next day, only because I then 
considered drinking as a necessary qualification for a 

20 fine gentleman and a Man of Pleasure. 

The same as to gaming. I did not want money, 
and consequently had no occasion to play for it; but 
I thought Play another necessary ingredient in the 
composition of a Man of Pleasure, and accordingly 

25 I plunged into it without desire, at first; sacrificed a 



21 Gaming. Lord Chesterfield's detestation of gambling is seen in the following 
extract from his will : 

41 In case my said godson, Philip Stanhope, [his heir] shall, at any time here- 
after, keep, or be concerned in keeping of any race horses, or pack of hounds : or 
reside one night at Newmarket, that infamous seminary of iniquity and ill-manners, 
during the course of the races there : or shall resort to the said races : or shall lose 
in any one day, at any game or bet whatsoever, the sum of ^500 : then, in any of 
the cases aforesaid, it is my express will that he, my said godson shall forfeit and 
pay, out of my estate, the sum of ^5000, to and for the use of the Dean and Chap- 
ter of Westminster." 



TO HIS SON 47 

thousand real pleasures to it; and made myself solidly 
uneasy by it, for thirty of the best years of my life. 

I was even absurd enough, for a little while, to 
swear, by way of adorning and completing the shin- 
ing character which I affected; but this folly I soon 5 
laid aside upon finding both the guilt and the inde- 
cency of it. 

Thus seduced by fashion, and blindly adopting 
nominal pleasures, I lost real ones; and my fortune 
impaired, and my constitution shattered, are, I must 10 
confess, the just punishment of my errors. 

Take warning, then, by them; choose your pleas- 
ures for yourself, and do not let them be imposed 
upon you. Follow nature, and not fashion: weigh 
the present enjoyment of your pleasures against the 15 j 
necessary consequences of them, and then let your 
own common sense determine your choice. 

Letter XV 

ATTIC SALT 

London, April the 3d, O. S. 1747. 
Dear Boy: If I am rightly informed, I am now 
writing to a fine Gentleman, in a scarlet coat laced 20 
with gold, a brocade waistcoat, and all other suitable 
ornaments. The natural partiality of every author 
for his own works, makes me very glad to hear that 
Mr. Harte has thought this last edition of mine worth 
so fine a binding; and as he has bound it in red and 25 
gilt it upon the back, I hope he will take care that it 
shall be lettered too. A showish binding attracts the 
eyes, and engages the attention of everybody; but 



4$ LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

with this difference, that women, and men who are 
like women, mind the binding more than the book; 
whereas men of sense and learning immediately 
examine the inside; and if they find that it does not 

js answer the finery on the outside, they throw it by 
with the greater indignation and contempt. I hope 
that when this edition of my works shall be opened 
and read, the best judges will find connection, con- 
sistency, solidity, and spirit in it. Mr. Hafte may 

10 recensere and emendare as much as he pleases, but it 
will be to little purpose if you do not cooperate with 
him. The work will be imperfect. 

I like your account of the salt works; which shows 
that you gave some attention while you were seeing 

15 them. But, notwithstanding that, by your account, 
the Swiss salt is (I dare say) very good, yet I am apt 
to suspect that it falls a little short of the true Attic 
salt, in which there was a peculiar quickness and deli- 
cacy. That same Attic salt seasoned almost all 

20 Greece, except Boeotia; and a great deal of it was 
exported afterward to Rome, where it was counter- 
feited by a composition called Urbanity, which in 
some time was brought to very near the perfection of 
the original Attic salt. The more you are powdered 

25 with these two kinds of salt, the better you will keep, 
and the more you will be relished. 

Adieu! My compliments to Mr. Harte and Mr. 
Eliot. 



10 Recensere, Revise : Emendare, Correct. Used of authors' revisions of 
cheir works. 

17 Attic salt. A delicate wit, supposed to be peculiar to the Athenians. 
20 Bceotia. Attic writers characterized the Boeotians as boorish. 



TO HIS SON 49 



Letter XVI 



ONE THING AT A TIME 



London, April the 14th, O. S. 1747. 
Dear Boy: If you feel half the pleasure from the 
consciousness of doing well, that I do from the infor- 
mations I have lately received in your favor from Mr. 
Harte, I shall have little occasion to exhort or ad- 5 
monish you any more, to do what your own satisfac- 
tion and self-love will sufficiently prompt you to. 
Mr. Harte tells me that you attend, that you apply to 
your studies; and that, beginning to understand, you 
begin to taste them. This pleasure will increase and 10 
keep pace with your attention, so that the balance 
will be greatly to your advantage. You may remem- 
ber, that I have always earnestly recommended to 
you, to do what you are about, be that what it will; 
and to do nothing else at the same time. Do not 15 
imagine that I mean by this, that you should attend 
to, and plod at, your book all day long; far from it: 
I mean that you should have your pleasures too; and 
that you should attend to them, for the time, as much 
as to your studies; and if you do not attend equally 20 
to both, you will neither have improvement nor satis- 
faction from either. A man is fit for neither business 
nor pleasure who either cannot, or does not, com- 
mand and direct his attention to the present object, 
and in some degree banish, for that time, all other 25 
objects from his thoughts. If at a ball, a supper, or 
a party of pleasure, a man were to be solving, in his 
own mind, a problem in Euclid, he would be a very 



50 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

bad companion, and make a very poor figure in that 
company; or if, in studying a problem in his closet, 
he were to think of a minuet, I am apt to believe that 
he would make a very poor mathematician. There 
5 is time enough for everything, in the course of the 
day, if you do but one thing at once; but there is 
not time enough in the year, if you will do two things 
at a time. The Pensionary de Witt, who was torn to 
pieces in the year 1672, did the whole business of the 

10 Republic, and yet had time left to go to assemblies in 
the evening, and sup in company. Being asked how 
he could possibly find time to go through so much 
business, and yet amuse himself in the evenings as 
he did? he answered, There was nothing so easy; 

15 for that it was only doing one thing at a time, and 
never putting off anything till to-morrow that could 
be done to-day. This steady and undissipated atten- 
tion to one object is a sure mark of a superior genius; 
as hurry, bustle, and agitation, are the never-failing 

20 symptoms of a weak and frivolous mind. When you 
read Horace, attend to the justness of his thoughts, 
the happiness of his diction, and the beauty of his 
poetry; and do not think of Puffendorf de Homine et 
Cive: and when you are reading Puffendorf, do not 
think of Madame de St. Germain; nor of Puffendorf, 
when you are talking to Madame de St. Germain. 



6 Pensionary de Witt. (1625-1672.) John de Witt, Grand Pensionary of 
Holland, one of the greatest of Holland's great men. His death by an infuriated 
mob was due partly to a misunderstanding of his official acts, partly to the enmity 
of the Orange family. 

22 Puffendorf, (or Pufendorf), (1632-1694,) a noted Saxon writer on jurispru- 
dence, professor, successively, at Leyden, Heidelberg, and. Lund. His work De 
Officiis Hominis et Civis, " On the Duty of the Man and of the Citizen," is an 
abridgment of a larger work. 



TO HIS SON 5 1 

Letter XVII 

friendships: company 

London, October the 9th, O. S. 1747. 
Dear Boy: People of your age have commonly 
an unguarded frankness about them, which makes 
them the easy prey and bubbles of the artful and the 
experienced: they look upon every knave, or fool, 5 
who tells them that he is their friend, to be really so; 
and pay that profession of simulated friendship with 
an indiscreet and unbounded confidence, always to 
their loss, often to their ruin. Beware, therefore, 
now that you are coming into the world, of these 10 
proffered friendships. Receive them with great 
civility, but with great incredulity too; and pay them 
with compliments, but not with. confidence. Do not 
let your vanity and self-love make you suppose that 
people become your friends at first sight, or even upon 15 
a short acquaintance. Real friendship is a slow 
grower; and never thrives, unless ingrafted upon a 
stock of known and reciprocal merit. There is an- 
other kind of nominal friendship, among young 
people, which is warm for the time, but, by good luck, 20 
of short duration. This friendship is hastily pro- 
duced by their being accidentally thrown together, 
and pursuing the same course of riot and debauchery. 
A fine friendship, truly! and well cemented by 
drunkenness and lewdness. It should rather be 25 
called a conspiracy against morals and good manners, 
and be punished as such by the civil Magistrate. 

4 Bubbles. Dupes. 



52 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

However, they have the impudence and the folly to 
call this confederacy a friendship. They lend one 
another money for bad purposes; they engage in 
quarrels, offensive and defensive, for their accom- 
5 plices; they tell one another all they know, and often 
more too; when, of a sudden, some accident disperses 
them, and they think no more of each other, unless it 
be to betray and laugh at their imprudent confidence. 
Remember to make a great difference between com- 

to panions and friends ; for a very complaisant and 
agreeable companion may, and often does, prove a 
very improper and a very dangerous friend. People 
will, in a great degree, and not without reason, form 
their opinion of you upon that which they have of 

15 your friends; and there is a Spanish proverb, which 
says very justly, Tell me whom you live with, and I will 
tell you who you are. One may fairly suppose that a 
man who makes a knave or a fool his friend, has some- 
thing very bad to do, or to conceal. But, at the same 

20 time that you carefully decline the friendship of 
knaves and fools, if it can be called friendship, there 
is no occasion to make either of them your enemies, 
wantonly and unprovoked; for they are numerous 
bodies; and I would rather choose a secure neu- 

25 trality, than alliance or war, with either of them. You 
may be a declared enemy to their vices and follies, 
without being marked out by them as a personal one. 
Their enmity is the next dangerous thing to their 
friendship. Have a real reserve with almost every- 

30 body; and have a seeming reserve with almost 
nobody; for it is very disagreeable to seem reserved, 
and very dangerous not to be so. Few people find 
the true medium; many are ridiculously mysterious 



TO HIS SON S3 

and reserved upon trifles; and many imprudently 
communicative of all they know. 

The next thing to the choice of your friends is the 
choice of your company. Endeavor, as much as you 
can, to keep company with people above you. There 5 
you rise, as much as you sink with people below you; 
for (as I have mentioned before) you are whatever 
the company you keep is. Do not mistake, when I 
say company above you, and think that I mean with 
regard to their birth; that is the least consideration: 10 
but I mean with regard to their merit, and the light 
in which the world considers them. 

There are two sorts of good company; one which 
is called the beau monde, and consists of those people 
who have the lead in Courts, and in the gay part of 15 
life; the other consists of those who are distinguished 
by some peculiar merit, or who excel in some par- 
ticular and valuable art or science. For my own part, 
I used to think myself in company as much above me, 
when I was with Mr. Addison and Air. Pope, as if I 20 
had been with all the princes in Europe. What I 
mean by low company, which should by all means be 
avoided, is the company of those who, absolutely 
insignificant and contemptible in themselves, think 
they are honored by being in your company, and who 25 
flatter every vice and every folly you have, in order to 
engage you to converse with them. The pride of 
being the first of the company is but too common; 
but it is very silly, and very prejudicial. Nothing in 
the world lets down a character more than that wrong 30 
turn. 

You may possibly ask me whether a man has it 
always in his power to get into the best company? 



54 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

and how? I say, Yes, he has, by deserving it; pro- 
vided he is but in circumstances which enable him to 
appear upon the footing of a gentleman. Merit and 
good breeding will make their way everywhere. 

5 Knowledge will introduce him, and good breeding 
will endear him to the best companies; for, as I have 
often told you, politeness and good breeding are 
absolutely necessary to adorn any or all other good 
qualities or talents. Without them, no knowledge, 

io no perfection whatsoever, is seen in its best light. 
The Scholar, without good breeding, is a Pedant; 
the Philosopher, a Cynic; the Soldier, a Brute; and 
every man disagreeable. 

I long to hear from my several correspondents at 

15 Leipsig, of your arrival there, and what impression 
you make on them at first; for I have Arguses, with 
a hundred eyes each, who will watch you narrowly, 
and relate to me faithfully. My accounts will cer- 
tainly be true; it depends upon you entirely of what 

20 kind they shall be. Adieu. 

Letter XVIII 

THE USE AND VALUE OF TIME 

London, December the nth, O. S. 1747. 

Dear Boy: There is nothing which I more wish 

that you should know, and which fewer people do 

know, than the true use and value of Time. It is in 

25 everybody's mouth, but in few people's practice. 

Every fool, who slatterns away his whole time in 

16 Arguses. In Greek mythology, Argus, the guardian of Io, had one hun- 
dred eye*. 



TO HIS SON 55 

nothings, utters, however, some trite commonplace 
sentence, of which there are millions, to prove at once 
the value and the fleetness of time. The sun-dials, 
likewise, all over Europe, have some ingenious in- 
scription to that effect; so that nobody squanders 5 
away their time without hearing and seeing daily how 
necessary it is to employ it well, and how irrecover- 
able it is if lost. But all these admonitions are use- 
less, where there is not a fund of good sense and 
reason to suggest them, rather than receive them. 10 
By the manner in which you now tell me that you 
employ your time, I flatter myself that you have that 
fund: that is the fund which will make you rich in- 
deed. I do not, therefore, mean to give you a criti- 
cal essay upon the use and abuse of time; I will only 15 
give you some hints with regard to the use of one par- 
ticular period of that long time which, I hope, you 
have before you; I mean the next two years. Re- 
member, then, that whatever knowledge you do not 
solidly lay the foundation of before you are eighteen, 20 
you will never be master of while you breathe. 
Knowledge is a comfortable and necessary retreat 
and shelter for us in an advanced age; and if we do 
not plant it while young, it will give us no shade when 
we grow old. I neither require nor expect from you 25 
great application to books, after you are once thrown 
out into the great world. I know it is impossible; and 
it may even, in some cases, be improper: this, there- 
fore, is your time, and your only time, for unwearied 
and uninterrupted application. If -you should some- 30 
times think it a little laborious, consider that labor is 
the unavoidable fatigue of a necessary journey. The 
more hours a day you travel, the sooner you will be 



56 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

at your journey's end. The sooner you are qualified 
for your liberty, the sooner you shall have it; and 
your manumission will entirely depend upon the 
manner in which you employ the intermediate time. 
5 I think I offer you a very good bargain, when I 
promise you, upon my word, that if you will do every- 
thing that I would have you do, till you are eighteen, 
I will do everything that you would have me do, ever 
afterward. 

Letter XIX 

BE THOROUGH 

10 Bath, February the 16th, O. S. 1748. 

Dear Boy: The first use that I made of my liberty 

was to come hither, where I arrived yesterday. My 

health, though not fundamentally bad, yet for want 

of proper attention of late wanted some repairs, which 

15 these waters never fail giving it. I shall drink them 
a month, and return to London, there to enjoy the 
comforts of social life, instead of groaning under 
the load of business. I have given the description 
of the life that I propose to lead for the future, in this 

20 motto, which I have put up in the frieze of my library 
in my new house: 

Nunc veterum libris, nunc somno, et inertibus horis 
Ducere sollicitse jucunda oblivia vitse. 

I must observe to you, upon this occasion, that the 

25 uninterrupted satisfaction which I expect to find in 

that library, will be chiefly owing to my having em- 

21 New house. In London. 

22 Nunc .... vitae. Horace, Satires, II. 6, 62. " In agreeable forgetfulness 
of the cares of life, I devote myself to ancient literature, to sleep, and to leisure." 



TO HIS SON 57 

ployed some part of my life well at your age. I wish 
I had employed it better, and my satisfaction would 
now be complete; but, however, I planted, while 
young, that degree of knowledge which is now my 
refuge and my shelter. Make your plantations still 5 
more extensive, they will more than pay you for your 
trouble. I do not regret the time that I passed in 
pleasures; they were seasonable, they were the 
pleasures of youth, and I enjoyed them while young. 
If I had not, I should probably have overvalued them 10 
now, as we are very apt to do what we do not know: 
but, knowing them as I do, I know their real value, 
and how much they are generally overrated. Nor do 
I regret the time that I have passed in business, for 
the same reason; those who see only the outside of it 15 
imagine that it has hidden charms, which they pant 
after; and nothing but acquaintance can undeceive 
them. I, who have been behind the scenes, both of 
pleasure and business, and have seen all the springs 
and pullies of those decorations which astonish and 20 
dazzle the audience, retire, not only without regret, 
but with contentment and satisfaction. But what I 
do and ever shall regret, is the time which, while 
young, I lost in mere idleness and in doing nothing. 
This is the common effect of the inconsideracy of 25 
youth, against w T hich I beg you will be most carefully 
upon your guard. The value of moments, when cast 
up, is immense, if well employed; if thrown away, 
their loss is irrecoverable. Every moment may be 
put to some use, and that with much more pleasure 30 
than if unemployed. Do not imagine that, by the 
employment of time, I mean an uninterrupted appli- 
cation to serious studies. No; pleasures are, at 



58 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

proper times, both as necessary and as useful: they 
fashion and form you for the world; they teach you 
characters, and show you the human heart in its un- 
guarded minutes. But, then, remember to make that 

5. use of them. I have known many people, from lazi- 
ness of mind, go through both pleasure and business 
with equal inattention; neither enjoying the one, nor 
doing the other; thinking themselves men of pleas- 
ure, because they were mingled with those who were; 

10 and men of business, because they had business to do, 
though they did not do it. Whatever you do, do 
it to the purpose; do it thoroughly, not superficially. 
Approfondissez; go to the bottom of things. Any- 
thing half done, or half known, is, in my mind, neither 

15 done nor known at all. Nay worse, for it often mis- 
leads. There is hardly any place, or any company, 
where you may not gain knowledge if you please; 
almost everybody knows some one thing, and is glad 
to talk upon that one thing. Seek and you will find, 

20 in this world as well as in the next. See everything, 
inquire into everything; and you may excuse your 
curiosity, and the questions you ask, which otherwise 
might be thought impertinent, by your manner of ask- 
ing them; for most things depend a great deal upon 

25 the manner. As, for example, / am afraid that I am 
very troublesome with my questions; but nobody can 
inform me so well as you; or something of that kind. 

I have now but one anxiety left which is concern- 
ing you. I would have you be, what I know nobody 
30 is, perfect. As that is impossible, I would have you 
as near perfection as possible. I know nobody in a 

18 Approfondissez. Go to the bottom of things. 



TO HIS soy 59 

fairer way toward it than yourself if you please. 
Never were so much pains taken for anybody's educa- 
tion as for yours; and never had anybody those 
opportunities of knowledge and improvement which 
you have had and still have. I hope, I wish, I doubt, 5 
and I fear alternately. This only I am sure of, that 
you will prove either the greatest pain or the greatest 
pleasure of Yours. 

Letter XX 

THE MODESTY OF TRUE LEARNING 

Bath, February the 22d, O. S. 1748. 
Dear Boy: Every excellency, and every virtue, 10 
has its kindred vice or weakness; and if carried be- 
yond certain bounds, sinks into the one or the other. 
Generosity often runs into Profusion, Economy into 
Avarice, Courage into Rashness, Caution into 
Timidity, and so on: — insomuch that, I believe, there 15 
is more judgment required for the proper conduct of 
our virtues, than for avoiding their opposite vices. 
Vice, in its true light, is so deformed, that it shocks 
us at first sight; and would hardly ever seduce us, if 
it did not at first wear the mask of some Virtue. But 20 
Virtue is in itself so beautiful, that it charms us at 
first sight; engages us more and more, upon further 
acquaintance; and, as with other Beauties, we think 
excess impossible: it is here that judgment is neces- 



19 Vice. " Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, 

As, to b*. hated, needs but to be seen ; 
Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, 
We first endure, — then pity, then embrace." 

— Pope's Essay on Man, H» «i7« 



60 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

sary to moderate and direct the effects of an excellent 
cause. I shall apply this reasoning, at present, not 
to any particular virtue, but to an excellency, which 
for want of judgment is often the cause of ridiculous 

5 and blamable effects; I mean, great Learning, which, 
if not accompanied with sound judgment, frequently 
carries us into Error, Pride, and Pedantry. As I 
hope you will possess that excellency in its utmost 
extent, and yet without its too common failings, the 

10 hints which my experience can suggest may prob- 
ably not be useless to you. 

Some learned men, proud of their knowledge, only 
speak to decide, and give judgment without appeal. 
The consequence of which is, that mankind, provoked 

15 by the insult, and injured by the oppression, revolt; 
and in order to shake off the tyranny, even call the 
lawful authority in question. The more you know, 
the modester you should be: and (by the by) that 
modesty is the surest way of gratifying your vanity. 

20 Even where you are sure, seem rather doubtful: 
represent, but do not pronounce; and if you would 
convince others, seem open to conviction yourself. 

Others, to show their learning, or often from the 
prejudices of a school education, where they hear of 

25 nothing else, are always talking of the Ancients as 
something more than men, and of the Moderns as 
something less. They are never without a Classic 
or two in their pockets; they stick to the old good 
sense; they read none of the modern trash; and will 

30 show you plainly that no improvement has been made 
in any one art or science these last seventeen hundred 
years. I would by no means have you disown your 
acquaintance with the Ancients; but still less would I 



TO HIS SON 6 1 

have you brag of an exclusive intimacy with them. 
Speak of the Moderns without contempt, and of the 
Ancients without idolatry; judge them all by their 
merits, but not by their ages; and if you happen to 
have an Elzevir classic in your pocket, neither show 5 
it nor mention it. 

Some great Scholars most absurdly draw all their 
maxims, both for public and private life, from what 
they call Parallel Cases in the ancient authors; with- 
out considering, that, in the first place, there never 10 
were, since the creation of the world, two cases 
exactly parallel: and, in the next place, that there 
never was a case stated, or even known, by any His- 
torian, with every one of its circumstances; which, 
however, ought to be known, in order to be reasoned 15 
from. Reason upon the case itself and the several 
circumstances that attend it, and act accordingly: but 
not from the authority of ancient Poets or Historians. 
Take into your consideration, if you please, cases 
seemingly analogous; but take them as helps only, 20 
not as guides. We are really so prejudiced by our 
educations, that, as the Ancients deified their Heroes, 
we deify their Madmen: of which, w T ith all due regard 
to antiquity, I take Leonidas and Curtius to have been 
two distinguished ones. And yet a stolid Pedant 25 
would, in a speech in Parliament, relative to a tax of 
twopence in the pound, upon some commodity or 
other, quote those two heroes, as examples of what 

6 Elzevir classic. The Elzevirs, publi>hers, of Amsterdam and Leyden, 
issued editions of the classics and of the New Testament, celebrated for the beauty 
of their typography. (1592-1681.) 

24 Leonidas and Curtius. Leonidas sacrificed his life at Thermopylae in 
battle with the Persians, in obedience to the laws of his native Sparta. Tradition 
says that Curtius leaped into a chasm in order to save Rome. 



02 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

we ought to do and suffer for our country. I have 
known these absurdities carried so far, by people of 
injudicious learning, that I should not be surprised, 
if some of them were to propose, while we are at war 
5 with the Gauls, that a number of geese should be 
kept in the Tower, upon account of the infinite advan- 
tage which Rome received, in a parallel case, from a 
certain number of geese in the Capitol. This way 
of reasoning, and this way of speaking, will always 

to form a poor politician, and a puerile declaimer. 

There is another species of learned men, who, 
though less dogmatical and supercilious, are not less 
impertinent. These are the communicative and shin- 
ing Pedants, who adorn their conversation, even with 

15 women, by happy quotations of Greek and Latin, and 
who have contracted such a familiarity with the Greek 
and Roman authors, that they call them by certain 
names or epithets denoting intimacy. As old Homer; 
that sly rogue Horace; Maro, instead of Virgil; and 

20 Naso, instead of Ovid. These are often imitated by 
coxcombs who have no learning at all, but who have 
got some names and some scraps of ancient authors 
by heart, which they improperly and impertinently 
retail in all companies, in hopes of passing for 

25 scholars. If, therefore, you would avoid the accusa- 
tion of pedantry, on one hand, or the suspicion of 
ignorance, on the other, abstain from learned osten- 
tation. Speak the language of the company that you 



6 Gauls, i. e., the French. While the ancient Gauls were besieging the capitol 
of Rome, their night attack was made known to the sleeping garrison by the cack- 
ling of geese. 

19 Maro. Publius Vergilius Maro, Virgil. 

20 Naso. Publius Ovidius Naso, Ovid. 



TO HIS SON 63 

are in; speak it purely, and unlarded with any other. 
Never seem wiser, nor more learned, than the people 
you are with. Wear your learning, like your watch, 
in a private pocket; and do not pull it out, and strike 
it, merely to show that you have one. If you are 5 
asked what o'clock it is, tell it; but do not proclaim it 
hourly and unasked, like the watchman. 

Upon the whole, remember that learning (I mean 
Greek and Roman learning) is a most useful and 
necessary ornament, which it is si ameful not to be 10 
master of; but at the same time most carefully avoid 
those errors and abuses which I have mentioned, and 
which too often attend it. Remember, too, that great 
modern knowledge is still more necessary than 
ancient; and that you had better know perfectly the 15 
present than the old state of Europe; though I would 
have you well acquainted with both. 

Letter XXI 

THE LAZY MIND: THE FRIVOLOUS MIND 

London, July the 26th, O. S. 1748. 
Dear Boy: There are two sorts of understandings; 
one of which hinders a man from ever being con- 20 
siderable, and the other commonly makes him ridicu- 
lous; I mean the lazy mind, and the trifling, frivolous 
mind. Yours, I hope, is neither. The lazy mind 
will not take the trouble of going to the bottom of 
anything, but, discouraged by the first difficulties 25 
(and everything worth knowing or having is attended 
with some), stops short, contents itself with easy, and 
consequently superficial, knowledge, and prefers a 



64 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

great degree of ignorance to a small degree of 
trouble. These people either think or represent most 
things as impossible, whereas few things are so to 
industry and activity. But difficulties seem to them 
5 impossibilities, or at least they pretend to think them 
so, by way of excuse for their laziness. An hour's 
attention to the same object is too laborious for them; 
they take everything in the light in which it first pre- 
sents itself, never consider it in all its different views, 

io and, in short, never think it thorough. The con- 
sequence of this is, that when they come to speak 
upon these subjects before people who have considered 
them with attention, they only discover their own 
ignorance and laziness, and lay themselves open to 

15 answers that put them in confusion. Do not, then, 
be discouraged by the first difficulties, but contra 
audentior ito; and resolve to go to the bottom of all 
those things which every gentleman ought to know 
well. Those arts or sciences which are peculiar to 

20 certain professions need not be deeply known by 
those who are not intended for those professions. 
As, for instance, fortification and navigation; of 
both which, a superficial and general knowledge, 
such as the common course of conversation, 

25 with a very little inquiry on your part, will give 
you, is sufficient. Though, by the way, a little more 
knowledge of fortification may be of some use to 
you; as the events of war, in sieges, make many of 
the terms of that science occur frequently in common 

30 conversations; and one would be sorry to say, like the 

16 Contra audentior ito. " Tu ne cede malis sed contra audentior ito." 
iEneid, VI. 95. "Yet do not yield to your ills, but advance ever bolder 
against them." Howland's translation. 



TO HIS SON 65 

Marquis de Mascarille, in Moliere's Prccienses Ridi- 
cules, when he hears of une detni Lime; Ma foi c'etoit 
bien une Lune toute entiere. But those things which 
every gentleman, independently of profession, should 
know, he ought to know well, and dive into all the 5 
depths of them. Such are languages, history, and 
geography ancient and modern; philosophy, rational 
logic, rhetoric; and, for you particularly, the consti- 
tution, and the civil and military state, of every coun- 
try in Europe. This, I confess, is a pretty large circle 10 
of knowledge, attended with some difficulties, and 
requiring some trouble; which, however, an active 
and industrious mind will overcome, and be amply 
repaid. The trifling and frivolous mind is always 
busied, but to little purpose; it takes little objects for 15 
great ones, and throws away upon trifles that time 
and attention which only important things deserve. 
Knick-knacks, butterflies, shells, insects, etc., are the 
objects of their most serious researches. They 
contemplate the dress, not the characters, of the com- 20 
pany they keep. They attend more to the decora- 
tions of a Play, than to the sense of it; and to the 
ceremonies of a Court, more than to its politics. 
Such an employment of time is an absolute loss of it. 
You have now, at most, three years to employ either 25 
well or ill; for as I have often told you, you will be all 
your life what you shall be three years hence. For 
God's sake, then, reflect: Will you throw away this 
time, either in laziness, or in trifles? Or will you not 
rather employ every moment of it in a manner that 39 

1 Precieuses Ridicules. A comedy by Moliere. 

2 Une demi Lune. A half moon : in fortification, an outwork. 
2 Ma foi . . . . entiere. " Faith, surely, it is a full moon." 



66 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 



must so soon reward you, with so much pleasure, 
figure, and character? I cannot, I will not, doubt of 
your choice. Read only useful books; and never 
quit a subject till you are thoroughly master of it, 

5 but read and inquire on till then. When you are in 
company, bring the conversation to some useful sub- 
ject, but a portce of that company. Points of history, 
matters of literature, the customs of particular coun- 
tries, the several Orders of Knighthood, as Teutonic, 

10 Maltese, etc., are surely better subjects of conversa- 
tion than the weather, dress, or fiddle-faddle stories, 
that carry no information along with them. The 
characters of Kings, and great Men, are only to be 
learned in conversation; for they are never fairly 

15 written during their lives. This, therefore, is an 
entertaining and instructive subject of conversation, 
and will likewise give you an opportunity of observ- 
ing how very differently characters are given, from 
the different passions and views of those who give 

20 them. Never be ashamed nor afraid of asking ques- 
tions; for if they lead to information, and if you 
accompany them with some excuse, you will never 
be reckoned an impertinent or rude questioner. All 
those things, in the common course of life, depend 

25 entirely upon the manner; and in that respect the 
vulgar saying is true, That one man may better steal 
a horse, than another look over the hedge. There 



3 Read only useful books. In another letter his lordship writes : " But 
throw away none of your time upon those trivial futile books published by idle or 
necessitous authors for the amusement of idle and ignorant readers : such books 
swarm and buzz about me every day ; flap them away ; they have no sting ; 
certum pete finem ; have some one object for your leisure moments, and pursue 
that object invariably till you have obtained it." 

7 A portee. Within the comprehension of. 



TO HIS SO AT 67 

are few things that may not be said, in some manner 
or other; either in a seeming confidence, or a genteel 
irony, or introduced with wit: and one great part of 
the knowledge of the world consists in knowing when 
and where to make use of these different manners. 5 
The graces of the person, the countenance, and the 
way of speaking, contribute so much to this, that I 
am convinced the very same thing said by a genteel 
person, in an engaging way, and gracefully and dis- 
tinctly spoken, would please; which would shock, ific 
muttered out by an awkward figure, with a sullen, 
serious countenance. The Poets always represent 
Venus as attended by the three Graces, to intimate 
that even Beauty will not do without. I think they 
should have given Minerva three also; for without 15 
them, I am sure, learning is \ery unattractive. 
Invoke them, then, distinctly, to accompany all your 
words and motions. Adieu. 



Letter XXII 

AGAINST CASUISTRY 

London, Sept. 27, O. S. 1748. 

Pray let no quibbles of lawyers, no refinement of 20 
casuists, break into the plain notions of right and 
wrong which every man's right reason and plain 

18 Venus. The goddess of love and beauty. 

*• Graces. The name usually given to the Greek goddesses Ckarites — Aglaia. 
Euphrosyne, and Thalia^ the personifications of beauty, grace, and cheerfulness, 
in nature and in morals. 

15 Minerva. The goddess of wisdom : Athena. 



68 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

common sense suggest to him. To do as you would 
be done by is the plain, sure, and undisputed rule of 
morality and justice. Stick to that; and be convinced 
that whatever breaks into it in any degree, however 
5 speciously it may be termed, and however puzzling 
it may be to answer it, is notwithstanding false in 
itself, unjust, and criminal. I do not know a crime 
in the world which is not by casuists allowed in some 
or many cases not to be criminal. The principles 

10 first laid down by them are often specious, the reason- 
ings plausible, but the conclusion always a lie; for 
it is contrary to that evident and undeniable rule of 
justice which I have mentioned above, of not doing 
to anyone what you would not have him do to you. 

15 But, however, these refined pieces of casuistry and 
sophistry being very convenient and welcome to 
people's passions and appetites, they gladly accept 
the indulgence without desiring to detect the fallacy 
of the reasoning: and indeed many, I might say most 

20 people, are not able to do it, — which makes the pub- 
lication of such quibblings and refinements the more 
pernicious. I am no skillful casuist nor subtle dis- 
putant; and yet I would undertake to justify and 
qualify the profession of a highwayman, step by step, 

25 and so plausibly as to make many ignorant people 
embrace the profession as an innocent if not even a 
laudable one, and to puzzle people of some degree 
of knowledge to answer me point by point. I have 
seen a book, entitled " Quidlibet ex Quolibet," or 

30 the art of making anything out of anything; which is 
not so difficult as it w r ould seem, if one once quits 

29 Quidlibet ex quolibet. " Whatever you please from whatever you please." 

That is : Any conclusion may be derived from any premises. 



TO HIS SON 69 

certain plain truths, obvious in gross to every 
understanding, in order to run after the ingenious 
refinements of warm imaginations and speculative rea- 
sonings. Doctor Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne, a very 
worthy, ingenious, and learned man, has written a 5 
book to prove that there is no such thing as matter, 
and that nothing exists but in idea; that you and I 
only fancy ourselves eating, drinking, and sleeping, 
you at Leipsig, and I at London; that we think we 
have flesh and blood, legs, arms, etc., but that we 10 
are only spirit. His arguments are, strictly speaking, 
unanswerable; but yet I am so far from being con- 
vinced by them that I am determined to go on to 
eat and drink, and walk and ride, in order to keep 
that matter, which I so mistakenly imagine my body 15 
at present to consist of, in as good a plight as pos- 
sible. Common sense (which in truth is very uncom- 
mon) is the best sense I know of. Abide by it: it 
will counsel you best. Read and hear for your 
amusement ingenious systems, nice questions sub- 20 
tilely agitated, with all the refinements that warm 
imaginations suggest; but consider them only as 
exercitations for the mind, and return always to settle 
with common sense. 

Letter XXIII 

RULES FOR CONDUCT IN COMPANY 

Bath, October the 19th, O. S. 1748. 25 
Dear Boy: Having in my last pointed out what 
sort of company you should keep, I will now give 

4 Doctor Berkeley. George Berkeley. (1685-1753.) A celebrated Eng- 
lish metaphysician. 



70 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

you some rules for your conduct in it; rules which 
my own experience and observation enable me to lay 
down, and communicate to you with some degree of 
confidence. I have often given you hints of this kind 
5 before, but then it has been by snatches; I will now 
be more regular and methodical. I shall say nothing 
with regard to your bodily carriage and address, but 
leave them to the care of your dancing-master, and 
to your own attention to the best models: remember, 

io however, that they are of consequence. 

Talk often, but never long; in that case, if you do 
not please, at least you are sure not to tire your 
hearers. Pay your own reckoning, but do not treat 
the whole company; this being one of the very few 

15 cases in which people do not care to be treated, every- 
one being fully convinced that he has wherewithal to 
pay. 

Tell stories very seldom, and absolutely never but 
where they are very apt and very short. Omit every 

2c circumstance that is not material, and beware of 
digressions. To have frequent recourse to narrative 
betrays great want of imagination. 

Never hold anybody by the button, or the hand, 
in order to be heard out; for, if people are not willing 

25 to hear you, you had much better hold your tongue 
than them. 

Most long talkers single out some one unfortunate 
man in company (commonly him whom they observe 
to be the most silent, or their next neighbor) to 

30 whisper, or at least, in a half voice, to convey a con- 
tinuity of words to.^ This is excessively ill-bred, and, 
in some degree, a fraud; conversation stock being a 
joint and common property. But, on the other hand, 



TO HIS SON 7 1 

if one of these unmerciful talkers lays hold of you, 
hear him with patience (and at least seeming atten- 
tion), if he is worth obliging; for nothing will oblige 
him more than a patient hearing, as nothing would 
hurt him more, than either to leave him in the midst 5 
of his discourse, or to discover your impatience under 
your affliction. 

Take, rather than give, the tone of the company 
you are in. If you have parts, you will show them, 
more or less, upon every subject; and if you have 10 
not, you had better talk sillily upon a subject of other 
people's than of your own choosing. 

Avoid as much as you can, in mixed companies, 
argumentative, polemical conversations ; which 
though they should not, yet certainly do, indispose, 15 
for a time, the contending parties toward each other: 
and, if the controversy grows warm and noisy, 
endeavor to put an end to it by some genteel levity 
or joke. I quieted such a conversation hubbub once, 
by representing to them that though I was persuaded 20 
none there present would repeat, out of company, 
what passed in it, yet I could not answer for the dis- 
cretion of the passengers in the street, who must 
necessarily hear all that was said. 

Above all things, and upon all occasions, avoid 25 
speaking of yourself, if it be possible. Such is the 
natural pride and vanity of our hearts, that it per- 
petually breaks out, even in people of the best parts, 
in all the various modes and figures of the egotism. 

Some abruptly speak advantageously of themselves, 30 | 
without either pretense or provocation. They are 
impudent. Others proceed more artfully, as they 
imagine; and forge accusations against themselves, 



72 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

complain of calumnies which they never heard, in 
order to justify themselves, by exhibiting a catalogue 
of their many virtues. They acknowledge it may, 
indeed, seem odd, that they should talk in that manner 
5 of themselves; it is what they do not like, and what 
they never would have done; no, no tortures should 
ever have forced it from them, if they had not been 
thus unjustly and monstrously accused. But, in these 
cases, justice is surely due to one's self, as well as to 

10 others; and, when our character is attacked, we may 
say, in our own justification, what otherwise we never 
would have said. This thin veil of Modesty, drawn 
before Vanity, is much too transparent to conceal it, 
even from very moderate discernment. 

15 Others go more modestly and more slyly still (as 
they think) to work; but, in my mind, still more 
ridiculously. They confess themselves (not without 
some degree of shame and confusion) into all the 
Cardinal Virtues; by first degrading them into weak- 

20 nesses, and then owning their misfortune, in being 
made up of those weaknesses. They cannot see 
people suffer without sympathizing with, and endeav- 
oring to help them. They cannot see people want 
without relieving them: though truly their own cir- 

25 cumstances cannot very well afford it. They cannot 
help speaking truth, though they know all the impru- 
dence of it. In short, they know that, with all these 
weaknesses, they are not fit to live in the world, much 
less to thrive in it. But they are now too old to 

30 change, and must rub on as well as they can. This 
sounds too ridiculous and outre, almost, for the stage ; 
and yet take my word for it, you will frequently meet 
with it upon the common stage of the world. And 



TO HIS SON 73 

here I will observe, by the bye, that you will often 
meet with characters in nature so extravagant, that a 
discreet Poet would not venture to set them upon the 
stage in their true and high coloring. 

This principle of vanity and pride is so strong in 5 
human nature, that it descends even to the lowest 
objects; and one often sees people angling for praise, 
where, admitting all they say to be true (which, by 
the way, seldom is), no just praise is to be caught. 
One man affirms that he has rode post a hundred 10 
miles in six hours: probably it is a lie; but supposing 
it to be true, what then? Why, he is a very good 
postboy, that is all. Another asserts, and probably 
not without oaths, that he has drunk six or eight 
bottles of wine at a sitting: out of charity I will believe 15 
him a liar; for if I do not I must think him a beast. 

Such, and a thousand more, are thvi follies and 
extravagances which vanity draws people into, and 
which always defeat their own purpose : and, as Waller 
says, upon another subject, 20 

" Make the wretch the most despised, 
Where most he wishes to be prized." 

The only sure way of avoiding these evils is, never 
to speak of yourself at all. But when historically you 
are obliged to mention yourself, take care not to 25 
drop one single word that can directly or indirectly 
be construed as fishing for applause. Be your char- 
acter what it will, it will be known; and nobody will 
take it upon your own word. Never imagine that any- 
thing you can say yourself will varnish your defects, 30 
or add luster to your perfections: but, on the con- 

19 Waller. Edmund. (1605-1687.) An English panegyrical poet. 



74 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

trary, it may, and nine times in ten will, make the 
former more glaring, and the latter obscure. If you 
are silent upon your own subject, neither envy, indig- 
nation, nor ridicule will obstruct or allay the applause 

5 which you may really deserve; but if you publish your 
own panegyric, upon any occasion or in any shape 
whatsoever, and however artfully dressed or disguised, 
they will all conspire against you, and you will be 
disappointed of the very end you aim at. 

10 Always look people in the face when you speak to 
them; the not doing it is thought to imply conscious 
guilt; besides that, you lose the advantage of observ- 
ing by their countenances what impression your dis- 
course makes upon them. In order to know people's 

15 real sentiments, I trust much more to my eyes than 
to my ears; for they can say whatever they have a 
mind I should hear, but they can seldom help looking 
what they have no intention that I should know. 

Neither retail nor receive scandal, willingly; for / 

20 though the defamation of others may, for the present, 
gratify the malignity or the pride of our hearts, cool 
reflection will draw very disadvantageous conclusions 
from such a disposition; and in the case of scandal, 
as in that of robbery, the receiver is always thought 

25 as bad as the thief. 

Mimicry, which is the common and favorite amuse- 
ment of little, low minds, is in the utmost contempt 
with great ones. It is the lowest and most illiberal 
of all buffoonery. Pray neither practice it yourself, 

30 nor applaud it in others. Besides that, the person 
mimicked is insulted; and, as I have, often observed 
to you before, an insult is never forgiven. 

I need not (I believe) advise you to adapt your 



TO HIS SON 75 

conversation to the people you are conversing with; 
for I suppose you would not, without this caution, 
have talked upon the same subject, and in the same 
manner, to a Minister of State, a Bishop, a Philoso- 
pher, a Captain, and a Woman. A man of the world 5 
must, like the Chameleon, be able to take every differ- 
ent hue; which is by no means a criminal or abject, 
but a necessary complaisance, for it relates only to 
Manners, and not to Morals. 

One word only as to swearing; and that I hope 10 
and believe is more than is necessary. You may 
sometimes hear some people in good company inter- 
lard their discourse with oaths, by the way of embel- 
lishment, as they think; but you must observe, too, 
that those who do so are never those who contribute, 15 
in any degree, to give that company the denomination 
of good company. They are always subalterns, or 
people of low education; for. that practice, besides 
that is has no one temptation to plead, is as silly and 
as illiberal as it is wicked. 20 

Loud laughter is the mirth of the mob, who are 
only pleased with silly things; for true Wit or good 
Sense never excited a laugh since the creation of 
the world. A man of parts and fashion is therefore 
only seen to smile, but never heard to laugh. 25 

But, to conclude this long letter; all the above-men- 
tioned rules, however carefully you may observe them, 
will lose half their effect if unaccompanied by the 
Graces. Whatever you say, if you say it with a super- 
cilious, cynical face, or an embarrassed countenance, 30 
or a silly disconcerted grin, will be ill received. If, into 
the bargain, you mutter it, or utter it indistinctly and 
ungracefully, it will be still worse received. If your 



7 6 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

air and address are vulgar, awkward, and gauche, you 
may be esteemed indeed, if you have great intrinsic 
merit, but you will never please ; and without pleasing, 
you will rise but heavily. Venus, among the An- 
5 cients, was synonymous with the Graces, who were 
always supposed to accompany her; and Horace tells 
us that even Youth, and Mercury, the God of Arts 
and Eloquence, would not do without her. 

14 — Parum com is sine te Juventas 
to Mercuriusque" 

They are not inexorable Ladies, and may be had 
if properly and diligently pursued. Adieu. 



Letter XXIV 

THE GRACES: THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH 

London, November the i8th, O. S. 1748. 
Dear Boy: Whatever I see or whatever I hear, my 

15 first consideration is, whether it can in any way be 
useful to you. As a proof of this, I went accidentally 
the other day into a print-shop, where, among many 
others, I found one print from a famous design of 
Carlo Maratti, who died about thirty years ago, and 

20 was the last eminent painter in Europe: the subject 
is, il Studio del Disegno; or, the School of Drawing. 
An old man, supposed to be the Master, points to 
his Scholars, who are variously employed, in per- 
spective, geometry, and the observation of the statues 

1 Gauche. Literally, left, left-handed, hence abruptness of manner. 

9 Parum .... Mercuriusque. Horace, Odes, I. 30, 7. "Youth and 

Mercury less agreeable without thee." 



TO HIS SON 77 

of antiquity. With regard to perspective, of which 
there are some little specimens, he has wrote, Tanto 
che basti, that is, As much as is sufficient; with regard 
to geometry, Tanto che basti again; with regard to 
the contemplation of the ancient statues, there is 5 
written, Non mai a bastanza; There never can be enough. 
But in the clouds, at the top of the piece, are repre- 
sented the three Graces; with this just sentence written 
over them, Senza di noi ogni fatica e vana; that is, 
Without us all labor is vain. This everybody allows 10 
to be true, in painting; but all people do not seem 
to consider, as I hope you will, that this truth is full 
as applicable to every other art or science; indeed, 
to everything that is to be said or done. I will send 
you the print itself, by Mr. Eliot, when he returns. 15 

It must be owned that the Graces do not seem to 
be natives of Great Britain, and I doubt the best of 
us here have more of the rough than the polished dia- 
mond. Since barbarism drove them out of Greece 
and Rome, they seem to have taken refuge in France, 20 
where their temples are numerous, and their worship 
the established one. Examine yourself seriously, why 
such and such people please and engage you, more 
than such and such others of equal merit, and you 
will always find, that it is because the former have 25 
the Graces, and the latter not. I have known many 
a woman with an exact shape, and a symmetrical 
assemblage of beautiful features, please nobody; while 
others, with very moderate shapes and features, have 
charmed everybody. Why? because Venus will not 30 
charm so much without her attendant Graces, as they 
will without her. Among men how often have I seen 
the most solid merit and knowledge neglected, unwel- 



78 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

come, or even rejected, for want of them? While 
flimsy parts, little knowledge, and less merit, intro- 
duced by the Graces, have been received, cherished, 
and admired. Even virtue, which is moral beauty, 
5 wants some of its charms, if unaccompanied by them. 
If you ask me how you shall acquire what neither 
you nor I can define or ascertain, I can only answer, 
By observation. Form yourself, with regard to others, 
upon what you feel pleases you in them. I can tell 

10 you the importance, the advantage, of having the 
Graces, but I cannot give them you: I heartily wish 
I could, and I certainly would; for I do not know 
a better present that I could make you. To show you 
that a very wise, philosophical, and retired man thinks 

15 upon that subject as I do, who have always lived in 
the world, I send you, by Mr. Eliot, the famous Mr. 
Locke's book upon Education; in which you will find 
the stress that he lays upon the Graces, which he calls 
(and very truly) Good breeding. I have marked all the 

20 parts of that book which are worth your attention ; for 
as he begins with the child almost from its birth, the 
parts relative to its infancy would be useless to you. 
Germany is still less than England the seat of the 
Graces; however, you had as good not say so while 

25 you are there. But the place which you are going to, 
in a great degree is, for I have known as many well- 
bred pretty men come from Turin as from any part 
of Europe. The late King Victor Amedee took great 
pains to form such of his subjects as were of any con- 

30 sideration, both to business and manners; the present 
King, I am told, follows his example; this, however, 
is certain, that in all Courts, and Congresses, where 
there are various foreign Ministers, those of the King 



TO HIS SON 79 

of Sardinia are generally the a'blest, the politest, and 
les plus delies. You will, therefore, at Turin, have 
very good models to form yourself upon; and remem- 
ber, that with regard to the best models, as well as 
to the antique Greek statues in the print, non mais 
a bastanza. Observe every word, look, and motion, 
of those who are allowed to be the most accomplished 
persons there. Observe their natural and careless, 
but genteel air; their unembarrassed good breeding; 
their unassuming, but yet unprostituted, dignity. 10 
Mind their decent mirth, their discreet frankness, and 
that entregenty which, as much above the frivolous as 
below the important and the secret, is the proper 
medium for conversation in mixed companies. I will 
observe, by the bye, that the talent of that light entre- 15 
gent is often of great use to a foreign Minister; not 
only as it helps him to domesticate himself in many 
families, but also as it enables him to put by and 
parry some subjects of conversation, which might pos- 
sibly lay him under difficulties, both what to say and 20 
how to look. 

Of all the men that ever I knew in my life (and 
I knew him extremely well), the late Duke of Marl- 
borough possessed the Graces in the highest degree, 
not to say engrossed them; and indeed he got the 25 
most by them; for I will venture (contrary to the 
custom of profound historians, who always assign 
deep causes for great events) to ascribe the better 
half of the Duke of Marlborough's greatness and 

2 Le plus delies. The shrewdest. 

12 Entregent. Tact. 

29 Duke of Marlborough. (1650-1722.) His wealth, power, and fame were 
due to his tact and skill in managing men, to the influence of his wife, and to his 
marvelous military genius. M But courage and skill in arms did less for Marl- 



80 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

riches to those Graces. He was eminently illiterate; 
wrote bad English, and spelled it still worse. He 
had no share of what is commonly called Parts; that 
is, he had no brightness, nothing shining in his genius. 
5 He had, most undoubtedly, an excellent good plain 
understanding, with sound judgment. But these 
alone would probably have raised him but something 
higher than they found him, which was Page to King 
James the Second's Queen. There the Graces pro- 

io tected and promoted him; for, while he was an Ensign 
of the Guards, the Duchess of Cleveland, then favorite 
mistress to King Charles the Second, struck by those 
very Graces, gave him five thousand pounds; with 
which he immediately bought an annuity for his life, 

15 of five hundred pounds a year, of my grandfather, 
Halifax, which was the foundation of his subsequent 
fortune. His figure was beautiful; but his manner 
was irresistible, by either man or woman. It was by 
this engaging, graceful manner that he was enabled, 

20 during all this war, to connect the various and jarring 
Powers of the Grand Alliance, and to carry them on 

borough on his return to the English court than his personal beauty .... and his 
manners were as winning as his person."— J. R. Green. His wife, Sarah Jennings, 
was the intimate friend of Queen Anne, and was often called lt Queen Sarah." 
11 Queen Anne only reigned, while Queen Sarah governed." — Temple Bar. Marl- 
borough was chief of the triumvirate composed of himself. Prince Eugene, and 
Heinsius, the Grand Pensionary of Amsterdam : and was the general in chief of 
the combined English and Dutch armies in the war with France. Chesterfield 
exaggerates his influence over his colleagues : had it been greater, their victories 
would have been greater. Marlborough was a traitor to James II. and to William. 
"So notorious was his treason that on the eve of the French invasion of 1692 he 
was one of the first of the suspected persons to be sent to the Tower."— J. R. Green. 

16 Halifax. George Savile, Marquis of Halifax. (1630-1695.) Statesman, 
orator, author : not to be confounded with Charles Montague, Earl of Halifax, 
(1661-1715), the financier, author of the bill establishing the Bank of England. 

21 Powers of the Grand Alliance. The Grand Alliance was signed May 
12, 1689, and included England, Germany, and Holland ; afterward, Spain and 
Savoy, also. Its object was to prevent the union of France and Spain. 



TO HIS SON 8l 

to the main object of the war, notwithstanding their 
private and separate views, jealousies, and wrong- 
headednesses. Whatever Court he went to (and he 
was often obliged to go himself to some resty and 
refractory ones), he as constantly prevailed, and 5 
brought them into his measures. The Pensionary 
Heinsius, a venerable old Minister, grown gray in 
business, and who had governed the Republic of the 
United Provinces for more than forty years, was abso- 
lutely governed by the Duke of Marlborough, as that 10 
Republic feels to this day. He was always cool; and 
nobody ever observed the least variation in his 
countenance: he could refuse more gracefully than 
other people could grant; and those who went away 
from him the most dissatisfied, as to the substance 15 
of their business, were yet personally charmed with 
him, and, in some degree, comforted by his manner. 
With all his gentleness and gracefulness, no man liv- 
ing was more conscious of his situation, nor main- 
tained his dignity better. 20 

Letter XXV 

DIGNITY OF MANNERS 

London, Aug. 10, O. S. 1749. 

There is a certain dignity of manners absolutely 
necessary to make even the most valuable character 
either respected or respectable. 

Horse-play, romping, frequent and loud fits of 25 
laughter, jokes, waggery, and indiscriminate familiar- 
ity will sink both merit and knowledge into a degree 



LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

of contempt. They compose at most a merry fellow, 
and a merry fellow was never yet a respectable man. 
Indiscriminate familiarity either offends your su- 
periors, or else dubs you their dependent and led cap- 
5 tain. It gives your inferiors just but troublesome 
and improper claims of equality. A joker is near 
akin to a buffoon, and neither of them is the nearest 
related to wit. Whoever is either admitted or sought 
for in company upon any other account than that 

io of his merit and manners, is never respected there 
but only made use of. We will have such-a-one, for he 
sings prettily; we will invite such-a-one to a ball, for 
he dances well; we will have such-a-one at supper, for 
he is always joking and laughing; we will ask another 

15 because he plays deep at all games, or because he 
can drink a great deal. These are all vilifying dis- 
tinctions, mortifying preference, and exclude all ideas 
of esteem and regard. Whoever is had (as it is called) 
in company for the sake of any one thing singly, is 

20 singly that thing, and will never be considered in 
any other light; consequently never respected, let his 
merits be what they will. 

This dignity of manners which I recommend so 
much to you is not only as different from pride as 

25 true courage is from blustering, or true wit from 
joking, but is absolutely inconsistent with it; for 
nothing vilifies and degrades more than pride. The 
pretensions of the proud man are oftener treated with 
sneer and contempt than with indignation ; as we offer 

30 ridiculously too little to a tradesman who asks ridicu- 
lously too much for his goods, but we do not haggle 
with one who only asks a just and reasonable price. 
Abject flattery and indiscriminate assentation de- 



TO II IS soy 83 

grade as much as indiscriminate contradiction and 
noisy debate disgust. But a modest assertion of one's 
own opinion and a complaisant acquiescence in other 
people's preserve dignity. 

Vulgar, low expressions, awkward motions and 5 
address, vilify; as they imply either a very low turn 
of mind or low education and low company. 

Frivolous curiosity about trifles and laborious 
attention to little objects, which neither require nor 
deserve a moment's thought, lower a man, who from 10 
thence is thought (and not unjustly) incapable of 
greater matters. Cardinal de Retz very sagaciously 
marked out Cardinal Chigi for a little mind from the 
moment that he told him he had wrote three years 
with the same pen, and that it was an excellent good 15 
one still. 



Letter XXVI 

" COMPLETE THE WORK " 

London, September the 12th, O. S. 1749. 
Dear Boy: It seems extraordinary, but it is very 
true, that my anxiety for you increases in proportion 
to the good accounts which I receive of you from all 20 
hands. I promise myself so much from you, that I 
dread the least disappointment. You are now so 
near the port, which I have so long wished and 
labored to bring you into, that my concern would be 
doubled should you be shipwrecked within sight of 25 

12 Cardinal de Retz. (1614-1679.) An able French politician and diplomat- 
ist. He was largely responsible for the war of the Fronde, which began in 1648. 

13 Cardinal Chigi. An Italian prelate, member of a noted family. 



84 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

it. The object, therefore, of this letter is (laying aside 
all the authority of a parent), to conjure you as a 
friend, by the affection you have for me (and surely 
you have reason to have some), and by the regard 
5 you have for yourself, to go on, with assiduity and 
attention, to complete that work, which, of late, you 
have carried on so well, and which is now so near 
being finished. My wishes, and my plan, were to 
make you shine, and distinguish yourself equally in 

io the learned and the polite world. Few have been able 
to do it. Deep learning is generally tainted with 
pedantry, or at least unadorned by manners; as, on 
the other hand, polite manners, and the turn of the 
world, are too often unsupported by knowledge, and 

15 consequently end contemptibly in the frivolous dissi- 
pation of drawing rooms. You are now got over the 
dry and difficult parts of learning; what remains 
requires much more time than trouble. You have 
lost time by your illness; you must regain it now or 

20 never. I therefore most earnestly desire, for your 
own sake, that for these next six months, at least six 
hours every morning, uninterruptedly, may be in- 
violably sacred to your studies with Mr. Harte. I do 
not know T whether he will require so much, but I 

25 know that I do, and hope you will, and consequently 
prevail with him to give you that time: I own it is a 
good deal; but when both you and he consider, that 
the w 7 ork will be so much better and so much sooner 
done, by such an assiduous and continued applica- 

30 tion, you will neither of you think it too much, and 
each will find his account in it. So much for the 
mornings which, from your own good sense, and Mr. 
Harte's tenderness and care of you, will, I am sure, 



TO HIS SON 85 

be thus well employed. It is not only reasonable, 
but useful, too, that your evenings should be devoted 
to amusements and pleasures; and therefore I not 
only allow, but recommend, that they should be 
employed at assemblies, balls, spectacles, and in the 5 
best companies; with this restriction only, that the 
consequences of the evening's diversions may not 
break in upon the morning's studies, by breakfastings, 
visits, and idle parties into the country. At your age, 
you need not be ashamed, when any of these morn- 10 
ing parties are proposed, to say you must beg to be 
excused, for you are obliged to devote your mornings 
to Mr. Harte; that I will have it so; and that you dare 
not do otherwise. Lay it all upon me, though I am 
persuaded it will be as much your own inclination as 15 
'; is mine. But those frivolous, idle people, whose 
ame hangs upon their own hands, and who desire to 
make others lose theirs too, are not to be reasoned 
with; and indeed it would be doing them too much 
honor. The shortest civil answers are the best; 1 20 
cannot, I dare not, instead of / will not; for, if you were 
to enter with them into the necessity of study, and the 
usefulness of knowledge, it would only furnish them 
with matter for their silly jests; which, though I 
would not have you mind, I w T ould not have you 25 
invite. I will suppose you at Rome, studying six 
hours uninterruptedly with Mr. Harte, every morning, 
and passing your evenings with the best company of 
Rome, observing their manners, and forming your 
own; and I will suppose a number of idle, saunter- 30 
ing, illiterate English, as there commonly is there, 
living entirely with one another, supping, drinking, 
and sitting up late at each other's lodgings; com- 



S6 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

monly in riots and scrapes when drunk; and never 
in good company when sober. I will take one of 
these pretty fellows, and give you the dialogue be- 
tween him and yourself; such as I dare say it will be 
5 on his side, and such as I hope it will be on yours. 

Englishman. Will you come and breakfast with me 
to-morrow there will be four or five of our country- 
men; we have provided chaises, and we will drive 
somewhere out of town after breakfast? 
10 Stanhope. I am very sorry I cannot, but I am 
obliged to be at home all morning. 

Englishman. Why, then, we will come and break- 
fast with you. 

Stanhope. I can't do that neither, I am engaged. 
15 Englishman. Well, then, let it be the next day. 

Stanhope. To tell you the truth, it can be no day in 
the morning, for I neither go out nor see anybody at 
home before twelve. 

Englishman. And what the devil do you do with 
20 yourself till twelve o'clock? 

Stanhope. I am not by myself, I am with Mr. Harte. 

Englishman. Then what the devil do you do with 
him? 

Stanhope. We study different things; we read, we 
25 converse. 

Englishman. Very pretty amusement indeed! Are 
you to take Orders, then? 

Stanhope. Yes, my father's orders, I believe, I must 
take. 
30 Englishman. Why, hast thou no more spirit than to 
mind an old fellow a thousand miles off? 

Stanhope. If I don't mind his orders he won't mind 
my draughts. 



TO HIS SOiV 87 

Englishman. What, does the old prig threaten, 
then? threatened folks live long; never mind threats. 

Stanhope. No, I can't say that he has ever threat- 
ened me in his life; but I believe I had best not 
provoke him. 5 

Englishman. Pooh! you would have one angry 
letter from the old fellow, and there would be an end 
of it. 

Stanhope. You mistake him mightily; he always 
does more than he says. He has never been angry 10 
with me yet, that I remember, in his life ; but if I were 
to provoke him I am sure he would never forgive me ; 
he would be coolly immovable, and I might beg and 
pray, and write my heart out to no purpose. 

Englishman. Why, then, he is an old dog, that's all 15 
I can say; and pray, are you to obey your dry-nurse 
too, this same, what's his name — Air. Harte? 

Stanhope. Yes. 

Englishman. So he stuffs you all morning with 
Greek, and Latin, and Logic, and all that. Egad, I 20 
have a dry-nurse, too, but I never looked into a book 
with him in my life; I have not so much as seen the 
face of him this week, and don't care a louse if I 
never see it again. 

Stanhope. My dry-nurse never desires anything of 25 
me that is not reasonable and for my own good, and 
therefore I like to be with him. 

Englishman. Very sententious and edifying, upon 
my word! at this rate you will be reckoned a very 
good young man. 30 

Stanhope. Why, that will do me no harm. 

Englishman. Will you be with us to-morrow in the 
evening, then? We shall be ten with you, and I have 



88 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

got some excellent good wine, and we'll be very 
merry. 

Stanhope. I am very much obliged to you, but I am 
engaged for all the evening to-morrow; first at Car- 
5 dinal Albani's, and then to sup at the Venetian 
Embassadress's. 

Englishman. How the devil can you like being 

always with these foreigners? I never go amongst 

them, with all their formalities and ceremonies. I 

io am never easy in company with them, and I don't 

know why, but I am ashamed. 

Stanhope. I am neither ashamed nor afraid; I am 

very easy with them; they are very easy with me; I 

get the language, and I see their characters by con- 

15 versing with them; and that is what we are sent 

abroad for. Is it not? 

Englislinian. I hate your modest women's com- 
pany; your women of fashion, as they call 'em. I 
don't know what to say to them, for my part. 
20 Stanhope. Have you ever conversed with them? 

Englishman. Xo. I never conversed with them; 
but I have been sometimes in their company, though 
much against my will. 

Stanhope. But at least they have done you no hurt, 
25 which is, probably, more than you can say of the 
women you do converse with. 

Englishman. That's true, I own; but for all that, I 

would rather keep company with my surgeon half the 

year than with your women of fashion the year round. 

30 Stanhope. Tastes are different, you know, and every 

man follows his own. 

Englishman. That's true; but thine's a devilish odd 
one, Stanhope. All morning with thy dry-nurse, all 






TO HIS SON 89 

the evening in formal fine company, and all day 
long afraid of old Daddy in England. Thou art a 
queer fellow, and I am afraid there's nothing to be 
made of thee. 

Stanhope. I am afraid so too. 5 

Englishman. Well then, good-night to you; you 
have no objection, I hope, to my being drunk to- 
night, which I certainly will be. 

Stanhope. Xot in the least; nor to your being sick 
to-morrow, which you as certainly will be; and so 10 
good-night too. 

You will observe that I have not put into your 
mouth those good arguments which upon such an 
occasion would, I am sure, occur to you, as piety and 15 
affection toward me, regard and friendship for Mr. 
Harte, respect for your own moral character, and for 
all the relative duties of Man, Son, Pupil, and Citizen. 
Such solid arguments would be thrown away upon 
such shallow puppies. Leave them to their ignor- 20 
ance, and to their dirty, disgraceful vices. They will 
severely feel the effects of them, when it will be too 
late. Without the comfortable refuge of learning, 
and with all the sickness and pains of a ruined 
stomach, and a rotten carcass, if they happen to arrive 25 
at old age, it is an uneasy and ignominious one. The 
ridicule which such fellows endeavor to throw upon 
those who are not like them is, in the opinion of all 
men of sense, the most authentic panegyric. Go on, 
then, my dear child, in the way you are in, only for a 30 
year and a half more; that is all I ask of you. After 
that, I promise that you shall be your own master, and 
that I will pretend to no other title than that of your 



9° LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

best and truest friend. You shall receive advice, but 
no orders, from me; and in truth you will want no 
other advice but such as youth and inexperience must 
necessarily require. You shall certainly want noth- 
5 ing that is requisite, not only for your conveniency, 
but also for your pleasures, which I always desire 
should be gratified. You will suppose that I mean 
the pleasures d'un honnete hotntne. 



Letter XXVII 

LOW COMPANY 

London, September the 27th, O. S. 1749. 

10 Dear Boy: A vulgar, ordinary way of thinking, 
acting, or speaking, implies a low education, and a 
habit of low company. Young people contract it at 
school, or among servants, with whom they are too 
often used to converse; but, after they frequent good 

15 company, they must want attention and observation 
very much, if they do not lay it quite aside. And in- 
deed if they do not, good company will be very apt 
to lay them aside. The various kinds of vulgarisms 
are infinite; I cannot pretend to point them out to 

20 you ; but I will give you some samples, by which you 
may guess at the rest. 

A vulgar man is captious and jealous; eager and 
impetuous about trifles. He suspects himself to be 
slighted, thinks everything that is said meant at him; 

25 if the company happens to laugh, he is persuaded they 

8 D'un honnete homme. Of an honorable man. 



TO HIS SON 9 1 

laugh at him; he grows angry and testy, says some- 
thing very impertinent, and draws himself into a 
scrape, by showing what he calls a proper spirit, and 
asserting himself. A man of fashion does not sup- 
pose himself to be either the sole or principal object 5 
of the thoughts, looks, or words of the company; and 
never suspects that he is either slighted or laughed at, 
unless he is conscious that he deserves it. And if 
(which very seldom happens) the company is absurd 
or ill-bred enough to do either, he does not care two- 1° 
pence, unless the insult be so gross and plain as to 
require satisfaction of another kind. As he is above 
trifles, he is never vehement and eager about them; 
and, wherever they are concerned, rather acquiesces 
than wrangles. A vulgar man's conversation always 15 
savors strongly of the lowness of his education and 
company. It turns chiefly upon his domestic affairs, 
his servants, the excellent order he keeps in his own 
family, and the little anecdotes of the neighborhood; 
all which he relates with emphasis, as interesting 20 
matters. He is a man gossip. 

Vulgarism in language is the next and distinguish- 
ing characteristic of bad company and a bad educa- 
tion. A man of fashion avoids nothing with more 
care than that. Proverbial expressions and trite say- 25 
ings are the flowers of the rhetoric of a vulgar man. 
Would he say that men differ in their tastes, he both 
supports and adorns that opinion by the good old 
saying, as he respectfully calls it, that it'hat is one man's 
Meat is another man's Poison. If anybody attempts 30 
being smart, as he calls it, upon him, he gives them 
Tit for Tat, ay, that he does. He has always some 
favorite word for the time being, which, for the sake 



9 2 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

of using often, he commonly abuses. Such as vastly 
angry, vastly kind, vastly handsome, and vastly ugly. 
Even his pronunciation of proper words carries the 
mark of the beast along with it. He calls the earth 
5 yearth; he is obleiged] not obliged to you. He goes to 
wards and not towards such a place. He sometimes 
affects hard words, by way of ornament, which he 
always mangles like a learned woman. A man of 
fashion never has recourse to proverbs and vulgar 
10 aphorisms, uses neither favorite words nor hard 
words; but takes great care to speak very correctly 
and grammatically, and to pronounce properly; that 
is, according to the usage of the best companies. 

Letter XXVIII 

STYLE 

London, November the 24th, O. S. 1749. 

15 Dear Boy: Every rational being (I take it for 
granted) proposes to himself some object more impor- 
tant than mere respiration and obscure animal 
existence. He desires to distinguish himself among 
his fellow-creatures; and, alicui negotio intentus, 

20 prcBclari facinoris, aut artis bonce famam qucrrit. 
Caesar, when embarking in a storm, said that it was 
not necessary he should live, but that it was abso- 
lutely necessary he should get to the place to which 
he was going. And Pliny leaves mankind this only 

1 Vastly. The American, with equal impropriety, says awful : awfully 
nice, etc. 

» 9 Alicui .... quaerit. "Devoting himself to a specialty, he seeks the 
renown of a brilliant achievement or of great virtue." 



TO HIS SON- 93 

alternative; either of doing what deserves to be 
written, or of writing what deserves to be read. As 
for those w r ho do neither, eorum vitammortemque juxta 
cestumo; quoniam de utraque siletur. You have, I am 
convinced, one or both of these objects in view 7 ; but 5 
you must know and use the necessary means or your 
pursuit will be vain and frivolous. In either case, 
sapere est principium et fons; but it is by no means all. 
That knowledge must be adorned, it must have luster 
as well as weight, or it will be oftener taken for Lead 10 
than for Gold. Knowledge you have, and will have: 
I am easy upon that article. But my business, as 
your friend, is not to compliment you upon what you 
have, but to tell you with freedom what you want; 
and I must tell you plainly that I fear you want every- 15 
thing but knowledge. 

I have written to you so often of late upon Good 
Breeding, Address, les Manieres liantes, the Graces, 
etc., that I shall confine this letter to another subject, 
pretty near akin to them, and which, I am sure, you 20 
are full as deficient in; I mean, Style. 

Style is the dress of thoughts ; and let them be ever 
so just, if your style is homely, coarse, and vulgar, 

3 Eorum .... siletur. Sallust's Catiline, 2, 8. " I consider their lives 

and deaths equally worthless, since no memorial remains of either." (Scribendi 

recte) sapere est et principium et fons. Horace: Ars Poetica,2oq. "Wisdom 

is both the beginning and the constant source of good composition "). Wickham 
says this line is the motto of the Ars Poetica. Howes renders it. 

" In the philosophy of man to excel 
Is the prime root and spring of writing well." 
Byron paraphrases it thus : 

" Though modern practice sometimes differs quite, 
'Tis just as well to think before you write." 
Another writer : 

" Good writing begins in good thinking." 
18 Les Manieres liantes. Easy manners. 



94 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

they will appear to as much disadvantage, and be as 
ill received, as your person, though ever so well- 
proportioned, would if dressed in rags, dirt, and 
tatters. It is not every understanding that can judge 
5 of matter; but every ear can and does judge, more or 
less, of style: and were I either to speak or write to 
the public, I should prefer moderate matter, adorned 
with all the beauties and elegancies of style, to the 
strongest matter in the world, ill worded and ill 

10 delivered. 

You have with you three or four of the best Eng- 
lish Authors, Dryden, Atterbury, and Swift; read 
them with the utmost care, and with a particular 
view to their language; and they may possibly cor- 

15 rect that curious infelicity of diction, which you ac- 
quired at Westminster. Mr. Ilarte excepted, I will 
admit that you have met with very few English 
abroad, who could improve your style; and with 
many, I dare say, who speak as ill as yourself, and it 

20 may be worse; you must, therefore, take the more 
pains, and consult your authors, and Mr. Harte, the 
more. I need not tell you how attentive the Romans 
and Greeks, particularly the Athenians, were to this 
object. It is also a study among the Italians and the 

25 French, witness their respective Academies and Dic- 
tionaries, for improving and fixing their languages. 
To our shame be it spoken, it is less attended to here 
than in any polite country; but that is no reason why 
you should not attend to it; on the contrary, it will 

30 distinguish you the more. Cicero says, very truly, 
that it is glorious to excel other men in that very 
article, in which men excel brutes; speech. 

Constant experience has shown me, that great 



TO HIS SOX 95 

purity and elegance of style, with a graceful elocution, 
cover a multitude of faults, in either a speaker or a 
writer. For my own part, I confess (and I believe 
most people are of my mind) that if a speaker should 
ungracefully mutter or stammer out to me the sense 5 
of an angel, deformed by barbarisms and solecisms, 
or larded with vulgarisms, he should never speak to 
me a second time, if I could help it. Gain the heart, 
or you gain nothing; the eyes and the ears are the 
only roads to the heart. Merit and knowledge will 10 
not gain hearts, though they will secure them when 
gained. Pray have that truth ever in your mind. 
Engage the eyes, by your address, air, and motions; 
soothe the ears, by the elegancy and harmony of your 
diction : the heart will certainly follow ; and the whole 1 5 
man, or woman, will as certainly follow^ the heart. I 
must repeat it to you, over and over again, that, with 
all the knowledge which you may have at present, or 
hereafter acquire, and with all the merit that ever man 
had, if you have not a graceful address, liberal and 20 
engaging manners, a prepossessing air, and a good 
degree of eloquence in speaking and writing, you will 
be nobody: but will have the daily mortification of 
seeing people, with not one-tenth part of your merit 
or knowledge, get the start of you, and disgrace you, 25 
both in company and in business. 



9^ LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

Letter XXIX 

" A TONGUE TO PERSUADE " 

London, December the 12th, O. S. 1749. 
Dear Boy: Lord Clarendon, in his history, says of 
Mr. John Hampden, that he had a head to contrive, a 
tongue to persuade, and a hand to execute any mischief, 
5 I shall not now enter into the justness of this char- 
acter of Mr. Hampden, to whose brave stand against 
the illegal demand of ship-money we owe our present 
liberties; but I mention it to you as the character 
which, with the alteration of one single word, Good, 

10 instead of Mischief, I would have you aspire to, and 
use your utmost endeavors to deserve. The head to 
contrive, God must to a certain degree have given 
you; but it is in your own power grer.tly to improve 
it by study, observation, and reflection. As for the 

15 tongue to persuade, it wholly depends upon yourself; 
and without it the best head will contrive to very 
little purpose. The hand to execute depends, like- 
wise, in my opinion, in a great measure upon yourself. 
Serious reflection will always give courage in a good 

20 cause; and the courage arising from reflection is of 
a much superior nature to the animal and constitu- 
tional courage of a foot soldier. The former is steady 
and unshaken, where the nodus is dignus vindice; the 
latter is oftener improperly than properly exerted, but 

25 always brutally. 

23 Nodus (literally knot, here difficult). Dignus vindice. Worthy of a pro- 
tector. Lord Chesterfield had in mind, doubtless : " Nee dens intersit, nisi dignus 
vindice nodus incident. 11 Horace : Ars Poetica, iqi. "Nor let a god interfere, 
unless a difficulty presents itself worthy of a god's unraveling." 



TO HIS SON 97 

The second member of my text (to speak eccle- 
siastically, shall be the subject of my following 
discourse; the tongue to persuade. As judicious 
Preachers recommend those virtues which they think 
their several audiences want the most: such as truths 
and continence at Court; disinterestedness in the 
City; and sobriety in the Country. 

You must certainly, in the course of your little 
experience, have felt the different effects of elegant 
and inelegant speaking. Do you not suffer when 10 
people accost you in a stammering or hesitating man- 
ner: in an untuneful voice, with false accents and 
cadences; puzzling and blundering through sole- 
cisms, barbarisms, and vulgarisms; misplacing even 
their bad words, and inverting all method? Does not 15 
this prejudice you against their matter, be it what it 
will; nay, even against their persons? I am sure it 
does me. On the other hand, do you not feel your- 
self inclined, prepossessed, nay, even engaged in favor 
of those who address you in the direct contrary man- 20 
ner? The effects of a correct and adorned style of 
method and perspicuity, are incredible toward per- 
suasion; they often supply the want of reason and 
argument, but when used in the support of reason 
and argument they are irresistible. The French 25 
attend very much to the purity and elegancy of their 
style, even in common conversation; insomuch that 
it is a character, to say of a man, qvtil narre bien. 
Their conversations frequently turn upon the deli- 
cacies of their language, and an Academy is employed 30 
in fixing it. The Crasca, in Italy, has the same 

28 Qu'il narre bien. How well he tells a story. 

81 Crusca. The Accademia della Crusca, corresponding to the French Academy. 



9>8 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

object; and I have met with very few Italians who 
did not speak their own language correctly and ele- 
gantly. How much more necessary is it for an Eng- 
lishman to do so who is to speak it in a public 
5 assembly, where the laws and liberties of his country 
are the subjects of his deliberation? The tongue that 
would persuade there must not content itself with 
mere articulation. You know what pains Demos- 
thenes took to correct his naturally bad elocution; 

io you know that he declaimed by the seaside in storms, 
to prepare himself for the noise of the tumultuous 
assemblies he was to speak to; and you can now 
judge of the correctness and elegancy of his style. 
He thought all these things of consequence, and he 

15 thought right; pray do you think so too. It is of the 
utmost consequence to you to be of that opinion. If 
you have the least defect in your elocution, take the 
utmost care and pains to correct it. Do not neglect 
your style, whatever language you speak in, or whom- 

20 ever you speak to, were it your footman. Seek 
always for the best words and the happiest expres- 
sions you can find. Do not content yourself with 
being barely understood; but adorn your thoughts, 
and dress them as you would your person; which, 

25 however well proportioned it might be, it would be 
very improper and indecent to exhibit naked, or even 
worse dressed than people of your sort are. 



TO HIS SON 99 

Letter XXX 

PURITY OF CHARACTER 

London, January the 8th, O. S. 1750. 
Dear Boy: I have seldom or never written to you 
upon the subject of Religion and Morality: your own 
reason, I am persuaded, has given you true notions 
of both; they speak best for themselves; but, if they 5 
wanted assistance, you have Mr. Harte at hand, both 
for precept and example: to your own reason, there- 
fore, and to Mr. Harte, shall I refer you, for the 
Reality of both; and confine myself, in this letter, to 
the decency, the utility, and the necessity of scrupu- 10 
lously preserving the appearances of both. When I 
say the appearances of religion, I do not mean that 
you should talk or act like a Missionary, or an Enthu- 
siast, nor that you should take up a controversial 
cudgel against whoever attacks the sect you are of; 15 
this would be both useless, and unbecoming your age: 
but I mean that you should by no means seem to 
approve, encourage, or applaud, those libertine 
notions, w 7 hich strike at religions equally, and which 
are the poor threadbare topics of half Wits, and 20 
minute Philosophers. Even those who are silly 
enough to laugh at their jokes are still wise enough 
to distrust and detest their characters: for, putting 
moral virtues at the highest, and religion at the 
lowest, religion must still be allowed to be a collateral 25 
security, at least, to Virtue; and every prudent man 
will sooner trust to tw r o securities than to one. 
Whenever, therefore, you happen to be in company 



ioo LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

with those pretended Esprits forts, or with thought- 
less libertines, who laugh at all religion to show their 
wit, or disclaim it to complete their riot, let no word 
or look of yours intimate the least approbation; on 
5 the contrary, let a silent gravity express your dislike: 
but enter not into the subject, and decline such un- 
profitable and indecent controversies. Depend upon 
this truth, That every man is the worse looked upon, 
and the less trusted, for being thought to have no 

10 religion; in spite of all the pompous and specious 
epithets he may assume, of Esprit fort, Free-thinker, 
or Moral Philosopher; and a wise Atheist (if such a 
thing there is) would, for his own interest, and char- 
acter in this world, pretend to some religion. 

15 Your moral character must be not only pure, but, 
like Caesar's wife, unsuspected. The least speck or 
blemish upon it is fatal. Nothing degrades and vili- 
fies more, for it excites and unites detestation and 
contempt. There are, however, Wretches in the 

20 world profligate enough to explode all notions of 
moral good and evil ; to maintain that they are merely 
local, and depend entirely upon the customs and 
fashions of different countries: nay, there are still, if 
possible, more unaccountable wretches; I mean those 

25 who affect to preach and propagate such absurd and 
infamous notions, without believing them themselves. 
These are the devil's hypocrites. Avoid, as much as 
possible, the company of such people; who reflect a 
degree of discredit and infamy upon all who converse 

30 with them. But as you may sometimes, by accident, 
fall into such company, take great care that no com- 
plaisance, no good-humor, no warmth of festal mirth, 

1 Esprits forts. Strong-minded men. 



TO HIS SON IOI 

ever make you seem even to acquiesce, much less to 
approve or applaud, such infamous doctrines. On 
the other hand, do not debate, nor enter into serious 
argument, upon a subject so much below it: but con- 
tent yourself with telling these Apostles, that you know 5 
they are not serious; that you have/ a much better 
opinion of them than they would have you have; and 
that you are very sure they would not practice the 
doctrine they preach. But put your private mark 
upon them, and shun them forever afterward. 10 

There is nothing so delicate as your Moral charac- 
ter, and nothing which it is your interest so much to 
preserve pure. Should you be suspected of Injustice, 
Malignity, Perfidy, Lying, etc., all the parts and 
knowledge in the world will never procure you 15 
esteem, friendship, or respect. A strange concur- 
rence of circumstances has sometimes raised very bad 
men to high stations; but they have been raised like 
criminals to a pillory, where their persons and their 
crimes, by being more conspicuous, are only the more 20 
known, the more detested, and the more pelted and 
insulted. If, in any case whatsoever, affectation and 
ostentation are pardonable, it is in the case of 
morality; though, even there, I would not advise you 
to a pharisaical pomp of virtue. But I will recom- 25 
mend to you a most scrupulous tenderness for your 
moral character, and the utmost care not to say or do 
the least thing that may, ever so slightly, taint it. 
Show yourself, upon all occasions, the advocate, the 
friend, but not the bully, of Virtue. Colonel Chartres, 3c 
whom you have certainly heard of (who was, I be- 
lieve, the most notorious blasted rascal in the. world, 
and who had, by all sorts of crimes, amassed immense 



102 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

wealth), was so sensible of the disadvantage of a bad 
character, that I heard him once say, in his impudent, 
profligate manner, that though he would not give one 
farthing for Virtue, he would give ten thousand 
5 pounds for a character; because he should get a hun- 
dred thousand pounds by it; whereas he was so 
blasted that he had no longer an opportunity of cheat- 
ing people. Is it possible, then, that an honest man 
can neglect what a wise rogue would purchase so 

10 dear? 

There is one of the vices above-mentioned, into 
which people of good education, and, in the main, of 
good principles, sometimes fall, from mistaken 
notions of skill, dexterity, and self-defense; I mean 

15 Lying: though it is inseparably attended with more 
infamy and loss than any other. The prudence and 
necessity of often concealing the truth insensibly 
seduces people to violate it. It is the only art of 
mean capacities, and the only refuge of mean spirits. 

20 Whereas concealing the truth, upon proper occasions, 
is as prudent and as innocent, as telling a lie, upon 
any occasion, is infamous and foolish. I will state you 
a case in your own department. Suppose you are 
employed at a foreign Court, and that the Minister of 

25 that Court is absurd or impertinent enough to ask 
you what your instructions are; will you tell him a 
lie; which, as soon as found out, and found out it 
certainly will be, must destroy your credit, blast your 
character, and render you useless there? No. Will 

30 you tell him the truth, then, and betray your trust? 
As certainly, No. But you will answer, with firm- 
ness, That you are surprised at such a question; that 
you are persuaded he does not expect an answer to 



TO HIS SON 103 

it; but that, at all events, he certainly will not have 
one. Such an answer will give him confidence in 
you; he will conceive an opinion of your veracity, of 
which opinion you may afterward make very honest 
and fair advantages. But if, in negotiations, you are 5 
looked upon as a liar, and a trickster, no confidence 
will be placed in you, nothing will be communicated 
to you, and you will be in the situation of a man who . 
has been burnt in the cheek; and who, from that 
mark, cannot afterward get an honest livelihood, if he 10 
would, but must continue a thief. 

Lord Bacon very justly makes a distinction be- 
tween Simulation and Dissimulation; and allows the 
latter rather than the former: but still observes, that 
they are the weaker sort of Politicians who have 15 
recourse to either. A man who has strength of mind, 
and strength of parts, wants neither of them. " Cer- 
tainly (says he) the ablest men that ever were have all 
had an openness and frankness of dealing, and a name 
of certainty and veracity; but then they were like 20 
horses well managed; for they could tell, passing 
well, when to stop, or turn: and at such times, when 
they thought the case indeed required some dissimu- 
lation, if then they used it, it came to pass that the 
former opinion spread abroad, of their good faith and 25 
clearness of dealing, made them almost invisible. " 
There are people who indulge themselves in a sort of 
lying, which they reckon innocent, and which in one 
sense is so ; for it hurts nobody but themselves. This 

12 Lord Bacon. Lord Bacon also says: "It will be acknowledged even by 
those that practice it not, that clear and sound dealing is the honor of man's nature, 
and that mixture of falsehood is like alloy in coin of gold and silver, which may 
make the metal work the better, but it embaseth [debases] it. There is no vice 
that doth so cover a man with shame as to be found false and perfidious." 



104 LORD CHESTERFIELD 'S LETTERS 

sort of lying is the spurious offspring of vanity, be- 
gotten upon folly: these people deal in the marvelous; 
they have seen some things that never existed; they 
have seen other things which they never really saw, 
5 though they did exist, only because they were thought 
worth seeing. Has anything remarkable been said 
or done in any place, or in any company? they imme- 
diately present and declare themselves eye or ear 
witnesses of it. They have done feats themselves, 

10 unattempted, or at least unperformed, by others. 
They are always the heroes of their own fables; and 
think that they gain consideration, or at least present 
attention, by it. Whereas, in truth, all they get is 
ridicule and contempt, not without a good degree of 

15 distrust: for one must naturally conclude, that he 
who will tell any lie from idle vanity, will not scruple 
telling a greater for interest. Had I really seen any- 
thing so very extraordinary as to be almost incredible, 
I would keep it to myself, rather than, by telling it, 

20 give any one body room to doubt for one minute my 
veracity. For God's sake, be scrupulously jealous of 
the purity of your moral character; keep it immacu- 
late, unblemished, unsullied; and it will be unsus- 
pected. Defamation and calumny never attack, where 

25 there is no weak place; they magnify, but they do not 
create. 

There is a very great difference between that purity 
of character, which I so earnestly recommend to you, 
and the Stoical gravity and austerity of character, 

30 which I do by no means recommend to you. At your 
age, I would no more wish you to be a Cato, than a 
Clodius. Be, and be reckoned, a man of pleasure, 

32 Clodius. Publius Clodius (or Claudius) Pulcher, " one of the most profligate 



TO HIS SON 105 

as well as a man of business. Enjoy this happy and 
giddy time of your life; shine in the pleasures and 
in the company of people of your own age. This 
is all to be done, and indeed only can be done, with- 
out the least taint to the purity of your moral char- 5 
acter: for those mistaken young fellows, who think 
to shine by an impious or immoral licentiousness, 
shine only from their stinking, like corrupted flesh, 
in the dark. Without this purity, you can have no 
dignity of character, and without dignity of character 10 
it is impossible to rise in the world. You must be 
respectable, if you will be respected. I have known 
people slattern away their character, without really 
polluting it; the consequence of which has been, that 
they have become innocently contemptible; their 15 
merit has been dimmed, their pretensions unregarded, 
and all their views defeated. Character must be kept 
bright, as well as clean. Content yourself with 
mediocrity in nothing. In purity of character, and 
in politeness of manners, labor to excel all, if you wish 20 
to equal many. Adieu. 



Letter XXXI 

ECONOMY OF TIME: DISPATCH OF BUSINESS 

London, February the 5th, O. S. 1750. 
My Dear Friend: Very few people are good 
economists of their Fortune, and still fewer of their 

characters of a profligate age." He was a contemporary and an enemy of Cicero. 
Lord Chesterfield does injustice to Cato, who was intensely patriotic, and, in morals, 
far in advance of his age. 

23 Observe the change of address ; hereafter it is " My dear Friend." 



106 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

Time; and yet, of the two, the latter is the most 
precious. I heartily wish you to be a good econo- 
mist of both; and you are now of an age to begin 
to think seriously of these two important articles. 

5 Young people are apt to think they have so much 
time before them, that they may squander what they 
please of it, and yet have enough left; as very great 
fortunes have frequently seduced people to a ruinous 
profusion. Fatal mistakes, always repented of, but 

10 always too late! Old Mr. Lowndes, the famous 
Secretary of the Treasury, in the reigns of King 
William, Queen Anne, and King George the First, 
used to say, Take care of the pence, and the pounds will 
take care of themselves. To this maxim, which he not 

15 only preached, but practiced, his two grandsons, at 
this time, owe the very considerable fortunes that he 
left them. 

This holds equally true as to time; and I most 
earnestly recommend to you the care of those minutes 

20 and quarters of hours, in the course of the day, which 
people think too short to deserve their attention; and 
yet, if summed up at the end of the year, would 
amount to a very considerable portion of time. For 
example; you are to be at such a place at twelve, by 

25 appointment; you go out at eleven, to make two or 
three visits first; those persons are not at home: 
instead of sauntering away that intermediate time at 
a coffee-house, and possibly alone, return home, write 
a letter, beforehand, for the ensuing post, or take up a 

30 good book, I do not mean Descartes, Mallebranche, 
Locke, or Newton, by way of dipping, but some book 
of rational amusement, and detached pieces, as 

30 Descartes, etc. Four celebrated philosophers. 



TO HIS SON 107 

Horace, Boileau, Waller, La Bruyere, etc. This will 
be so much time saved, and by no means ill employed. 
Many people lose a great deal of time by reading; 
for they read frivolous and idle books, such as the 
absurd Romances of the two last centuries; where 5 
characters, that never existed, are insipidly displayed, 
and sentiments, that were never felt, pompously 
described: the oriental ravings and extravagances of 
the Arabian Nights, and Mogul Tales; or the new 
flimsy brochures that now swarm in France, of Fairy 10 
Tales, Reflexions sur le Ccear et V Esprit, Metaphysique 
de V Amour, Analyse des beaux Sentiments; and such 
sort of idle frivolous stuff, that nourishes and im- 
proves the mind just as much as whipped cream 
would the body. Stick to the best established books 15 
in every language; the celebrated Poets, Historians, 
Orators, or Philosophers. By these means (to use a 
city metaphor) you will make fifty per cent, of that 
time, of which others do not make above three or 
four, or probably nothing at all. 20 

Many people lose a great deal of their time by 
laziness; they loll and yawn in a great chair, tell 
themselves that they have not time to begin anything 1 
then, and that it will do as well another time. This 
is a most unfortunate disposition, and the greatest 25 
obstruction to both knowledge and business. At 
your age, you have no right nor claim to laziness; 
I have, if I please, being emeritus. You are but just 

I Horace, etc. Young Stanhope's scholarship seems to have been sufficient to 
enable him to enjoy Latin and French authors in their original languages. 

- Mogul Tales. Mongolian Tales, similar to the better known Arabian Nights. 

II Reflexions .... Sentiments. Reflections on the Heart and Spirit ; The 
Philosophy of Love ; x\nalysis of Fine Sentiment. 

28 Emeritus. Literally, Having- earned (a rest). A title given to one honor- 
ably retired from active duty. 



108 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

listed in the world, and must be active, diligent, inde- 
fatigable. If ever you propose commanding with 
dignity, you must serve up to it with diligence. 
Never put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day. 
5 Dispatch is the soul of business; and nothing con- 
tributes more to Dispatch, than Method. Lay down 
a method for everything, and stick to it inviolably, 
as far as unexpected incidents may allow. Fix one 
certain hour and day in the week for your accounts, 

io and keep them together in their proper order; by 
which means they will require very little time, and you 
can never be much cheated. Whatever letters and 
papers you keep, docket and tie them up in their 
respective classes, so that you may instantly have 

15 recourse to any one. Lay down a method also for 
your reading, for which you allot a certain share of 
your mornings; let it be in a consistent and con- 
secutive course, and not in that desultory and 
unmethodical manner, in which many people read 

20 scraps of different authors, upon different subjects. 
Keep a useful and short common-place book of what 
you read, to help your memory only, and not for 
pedantic quotations. Xever read History without 
having maps, and a chronological book, or tables, 

25 lying by you, and constantly recurred to; without 
which, History is only a confused heap of facts. One 
method more I recommend to you, by which I have 
found great benefit, even in the most dissipated part 
of my life; that is, to rise early, and at the same hour 

30 every morning, how late soever you may have sat 
up the night before. This secures you an hour or 
two, at least, of reading or reflection, before the 
common interruptions of the morning begin; and it 



TO HIS SON- 109 

will save your constitution, by forcing you to go to 
bed early, at least one night in three. 

You will say, it may be, as many young people 
would, that all this order and method is very trouble- 
some, only fit for dull people, and a disagreeable 5 
restraint upon the noble spirit and fire of youth. I 
deny it; and assert, on the contrary, that it will pro- 
cure you both more time and more taste for your 
pleasures; and so far from being troublesome to you, 
that after you have pursued it a month it would be 10 
troublesome to you to lay it aside. Business whets 
the appetite, and gives a taste to pleasures, as exercise 
does to food : and business can never be done without 
method: it raises the spirits for pleasure; and a specta- 
cle, a ball, an assembly, will much more sensibly affect 15 
a man who has employed, than a man who has lost, 
the preceding part of the day; nay, I will venture to 
say, that a fine lady will seem to have more charms 
to a man of study or business, than to a saunterer. 
The same listlessness runs through his whole conduct, 20 
and he is as insipid in his pleasures as inefficient in 
everything else. 

There is a certain dignity to be kept up in pleasures, 
as well as in business. In love, a man may lose his 
heart with dignity; but if he loses his nose, he loses 25 
his character into the bargain. At table, a man may 
with decency have a distinguishing palate; but indis- 
criminate voraciousness degrades him to a glutton. 
A man may play with decency; but if he games, he 
is disgraced. Vivacity and wit make a man shine in 30 
company; but trite jokes and loud laughter reduce 
him to a buffoon. Every virtue, they say, has its 
kindred vice; every pleasure, I am sure, has its neigh- 



J 



no LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

boring disgrace. Mark carefully, therefore, the line 
that separates them, and rather stop a yard short, than 
step an inch beyond it. 

I wish to God that you had as much pleasure in 
5 following my advice, as I have in giving it you; and 
you may the easier have it, as I give you none that is 
inconsistent with your pleasure. In all that I say to 
you, it is your interest alone that I consider: trust to 
my experience; you know you may to my affection. 
10 Adieu. 

Letter XXXII 

virtue: modesty 

London, May 17, O. S. 1750. 
My Dear Friend: Your apprenticeship is near out, 
and you are soon to set up for yourself; that approach- 
ing moment is a critical one for you, and an anxious 

15 one for me. A tradesman who would succeed in his 
way must begin by establishing a character of integ- 
rity and good manners: without the former, nobody 
will go to his shop at all; without the latter, nobody 
will go there twice. This rule does not exclude the 

20 fair arts of trade. He may sell his goods at the best 
price he can, within certain bounds. He may avail 
himself of the humor, the w T hims, and the fantastical 
tastes of his customers; but what he warrants to be 
good must be really so, what he seriously asserts must 

25 be true, or his first fraudulent profits will soon end 
in a bankruptcy. It is the same in higher life and in 
the great business of the world. A man who does 
not solidly establish, and really deserve, a character 



TO HIS SON Hi 

of truth, probity, good manners, and good morals at 
his first setting out in the world, may impose and 
shine like a meteor for a very short time, but will very 
soon vanish, and be extinguished with contempt. 
People easily pardon in young men the common 5 
irregularities of the senses; but they do not forgive 
the least vice of the heart. The heart never grows 
better by age: I fear rather worse; always harder. 
A young liar will be an old one, and a young knave 
will only be a greater knave as he grows older. But 10 
should a bad young heart, accompanied with a good 
head (which by the way very seldom is the case), really 
reform in a more advanced age, from a consciousness 
of its folly, as well as of its guilt, such a conversion 
would only be thought prudential and political, but 15 
never sincere. I hope in God, and I verily believe 
that you want no moral virtue. But the possession 
of all the moral virtues in actu primo, as the logicians 
call it, is not sufficient; you must have them in actu 
secundo too; nay, that is not sufficient, neither, you 20 
must have the reputation of them also. Your char- 
acter in the world must be built upon that solid 
foundation, or it will soon fall, and upon your own 
head. You cannot therefore be too careful, too nice, 
loo scrupulous, in establishing this character at first, 25 
upon which your whole career depends. Let no con- 
versation, no example, no fashion, no bon mot, no 
silly desire of seeming to be above what most knaves 
and many fools call prejudices, ever tempt you to 
avow, excuse, extenuate, or laugh at the least breach 30 

18 In actu primo. In the first act. 

19 In actu secundo. In the second act. 
27 Bon mot. Witty remark. 



112 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

of morality; but show upon all occasions, and take 
all occasions to show, a detestation and abhorrence 
of it. There, though young, you ought to be strict; 
and there only, while young, it becomes you to be 
5 strict and severe. But there too, spare the persons 
while you lash the crimes. All this relates, as you 
easily judge, to the vices of the heart, such as lying, 
fraud, envy, malice, detraction, etc. 

To come now to a point of much less but yet of 

io very great consequence at your first setting out. Be 
extremely on your guard against vanity, the common 
failing of inexperienced youth ; but particularly against 
that kind of vanity that dubs a man a coxcomb, — a 
character which, once acquired, is more indelible than 

15 that of the priesthood. It is not to be imagined by 
how many different ways vanity defeats its own pur- 
poses. Some men decide peremptorily upon every 
subject, betray their ignorance upon many, and show 
a disgusting presumption upon the rest. Others 

20 flatter their vanity by little extraneous objects, which 
have not the least relation to themselves, — such as 
being descended from, related to, or acquainted with 
people of distinguished merit and eminent characters. 
They talk perpetually of their grandfather such-a-one, 

25 their uncle such-a-one, and their intimate friend Mr. 
Such-a-one, with whom possibly they are hardly 
acquainted. But admitting it all to be as they would 
have it, what then? Have they the more merit for 
those accidents? Certainly not. On the contrary, 

30 their taking up adventitious proves their want of 
intrinsic merit; a rich man never borrows. Take this 
rule for granted, as a never-failing one, — that you 
must never seem to affect the character in which you 



TO HIS SON 113 

have a mind to shine. Modesty is the only sure bait 
when you angle for praise. The affectation of 
courage will make even a brave man pass only for 
a bully, as the affectation of wit will make a man of 
parts pass for a coxcomb. By this modesty I do not 5 
mean timidity and awkward bashfulness. On the 
contrary, be inwardly firm and steady, know your own 
value whatever it may be, and act upon that principle; 
but take care to let nobody discover that you do know 
your own value. Whatever real merit you have, 10 
other people will discover, and people always magnify 
their own discoveries, as they lessen those of others. 



Letter XXXIII 

IMPORTANCE OF GOOD ENUNCIATION 

London, July the 9th, O. S. 1750. 
My Dear Friend : I should not deserve that appel- 
lation in return from you, if I did not freely and 15 
explicitly inform you of every corrigible defect, which 
I may either hear of, suspect, or at any time discover 
in you. Those w 7 ho in the common course of the 
world will call themselves your friends, or whom, 
according to the common notions of friendship, you 20 
may possibly think such, will never tell you of your 
faults, still less of your weaknesses. But on the con- 
trary, more desirous to make you their friend than 
to prove themselves yours, they will flatter both, and, 
in truth, not be sorry for either. Interiorly, most 25 
people enjoy the inferiority of their best friends. The 
useful and essential part of friendship to you is 



H4 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

reserved singly for Mr. Harte and myself; our rela- 
tions to you stand pure, and unsuspected of all private 
views. In whatever we say to you, we can have no 
interest but yours. We can have no competition, no 
5 jealousy, no secret envy or malignity. We are there- 
fore authorized to represent, advise, and remonstrate; 
and your reason must tell you that you ought to attend 
to and believe us. 

I am credibly informed that there is still a con- 

10 siderable hitch or hobble in your enunciation; and that 
when you speak fast, you sometimes speak unin- 
telligibly. I have formerly and frequently laid my 
thoughts before you so fully upon this subject, that 
I can say nothing new upon it now. I must there- 

15 fore only repeat, that your whole depends upon it. 
Your trade is to speak well, both in public and in 
private. The manner of your speaking is full as 
important as the matter, as more people have ears 
to be tickled than understandings to judge. Be your 

20 productions ever so good, they will be of no use, if 
you stifle and strangle them in their birth. The best 
compositions of Corelli, if ill executed, and played 
out of tune, instead of touching, as they do when well 
performed, would only excite the indignation of the 

25 hearers, when murdered by an unskillful performer. 
But to murder your own productions, and that 
coram populo, is a Mcdcan cruelty, which Horace 
absolutely forbids. Remember of what importance 
Demosthenes, and one of the Gracchi, thought enun- 

22 Corelli. (1653-1713.) An Italian violinist and composer. 

27 Coram populo. Public^. 

27 Medean cruelty. Medea is fabled to have murdered her own children. 

29 Gracchi. The two best known Romans of this name were brothers, tribunes, 



TO HIS SOY 115 

elation: read what stress Cicero and Quintilian lay 
upon it; even the herb-women at Athens were correct 
judges of it. Oratory with all its graces, that of 
enunciation in particular, is full as necessary in our 
government, as it ever was in Greece or Rome. Xo 5 
man can make a fortune or a figure in this country, 
without speaking, and speaking well, in public. If 
you will persuade, you must first please; and if you 
will please, you must tune your voice to harmony; 
you must articulate every syllable distinctly; your 10 
emphasis and cadences must be strongly and properly 
marked ; and the whole together must be graceful and 
engaging; if you do not speak in that manner, you 
had much better not speak at all. All the learning 
you have, or ever can have, is not worth one groat 15 
without it. It may be a comfort and an amusement 
to you in your closet, but can be of no use to you 
in the world. Let me conjure you therefore to make 
this your only object, till you have absolutely con- 
quered it, for that is in your power; think of nothing 20 
else, read and speak for nothing else. Read aloud, 
though alone, and read articulately and distinctly, 
as if you were reading in public, and on the most 
important occasion. Recite pieces of eloquence, de- 
claim scenes of tragedies, to Mr. Harte, as if he were 25 
a numerous audience. If there is any particular con- 
sonant which you have a difficulty in articulating, as 
I think you had with the R, utter it millions and 
millions of times, till you have learned it right. Never 
speak quick, till you have first learned to speak well. 30 

who lost their lives in endeavoring to check the avarice of the ruling party at 
Rome. 

1 Quintilian. (42 ?-ti8?) A noted Roman rhetorician and author. 



Il6 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

In short, lay aside every book and every thought, 
that does not directly tend to this great object, abso- 
lutely decisive of your future fortune and figure. 
The next thing necessary in your destination is, 
5 writing correctly, elegantly, and in a good hand too ; 
in which three particulars, I am sorry to tell you that 
you hitherto fail. Your handwriting is a very bad 
one, and would make a scurvy figure in an office- 
book of letters, or even in a lady's pocket-book. But 
10 that fault is easily cured by care, since every man 
who has the use of his eyes and of his right hand can 
write whatever hand he pleases. 

Letter XXXIV 
history: conversation 

London, Nov. i, O. S. 1750. 
My Dear Friend: While you are in France, I 
15 could wish that the hours you allot for historical 
amusement should be entirely devoted to the history 
of France. One always reads history to most advan- 
tage in that country to which it is relative, — not only 
books but persons being ever at hand to solve doubts 
20 and clear up difficulties. 

Conversation in France, if you have the address 
and dexterity to turn it upon useful subjects, will 
exceeding improve your historical knowledge, for 
people there, however classically ignorant they may 
25 be, think it a shame to be ignorant of the history of 
their own country; they read that, if they read nothing 
else, and having often read nothing else are proud 
of having read that, and talk of it willingly: even the 



TO HIS SON 117 

women are well instructed in that sort of reading. 
I am far from meaning by this that you should always 
be talking wisely in company of books, history, and 
matters of knowledge. There are many companies 
which you will and ought to keep, where such con- 5 
versations would be misplaced and ill-timed. Your 
own good sense must distinguish the company and 
the time. You must trifle only with triflers and be 
serious only with the serious, but dance to those who 
pipe. " Cur in theatrum Cato severe venisti? " was 10 
justly said to an old man: how much more so would 
it be to one of your age! From the moment that 
you are dressed and go out, pocket all your knowl- 
edge with your watch, and never pull it out in com- 
pany unless desired; the producing of the one unasked 15 
implies that you are weary of the company, and the 
producing of the other unrequired will make the com- 
pany weary of you. Company is a republic too jeal- 
ous of its liberties to suffer a dictator even for a 
quarter of an hour, and yet in that, as in all republics, 20 
there are some few who really govern; but then it is 
by seeming to disclaim, instead of attempting to usurp 
the power. That is the occasion in which manners, 
dexterity, address, and the undefinable je ne sais quoi 
triumph; if properly exerted their conquest is sure, 25 
and the more lasting for not being perceived. Re- 
member that this is not only your first and greatest, 
but ought to be almost your only object, while you 
are in France. 



10 " Q ur .... venisti ?" " Cato, why do you come to the theater with 
such an austere countenance ? " 

24 Je ne sais quoi. Literally that / do not know what, that indefinable 
something. 



Il8 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

I know that many of your countrymen are apt to 
call the freedom and vivacity of the French petulancy 
and ill-breeding; but should you think so, I desire 
upon many accounts that you will not say so. I 
5 admit that it may be so in some instances of petit s 
maitres etourdis and in some young people unbroken 
to the world; but I can assure you that you will find 
it much otherwise with people of a certain rank and 
age, upon whose model you will do very well to form 

io yourself. We call their steady assurance, impudence. 
Why? Only because what we call modesty is awk- 
ward bashfulness and mauvaise honte. For my part 
I see no impudence, but on the contrary infinite utility 
and advantage, in presenting one's self with the same 

15 coolness and unconcern in any and every company; 
till one can do that, I am very sure that one can never 
present one's self well. Whatever is done under con- 
cern and embarrassment, must be ill done; and till 
a man is absolutely easy and unconcerned in every 

20 company he will never be thought to have kept good, 
nor be very welcome in it. A steady assurance with 
seeming modesty is possibly the most useful qualifica- 
tion that a man can have in every part of life. A man 
would certainly not make a very considerable fortune 

25 and figure in the world, whose modesty and timidity 
should often, as bashfulness always does, put him in 
the deplorable and lamentable situation of the pious 
^Eneas, when obstupuit, steternntque coma, et vox fauci- 
bus he? sit. Fortune, 

30 " born to be controlled, 

Stoops to the forward and the bold." 

6 Petits maitres etourdis. Silly coxcombs. 

as obstupuit .... haesit. ^Eneid, III. 774. "He was dumfounded. 



TO HIS SON 119 

Assurance and intrepidity, under the white banner 
of seeming modesty, clear the way for merit, that 
would otherwise be discouraged by difficulties in its 
journey; whereas barefaced impudence is the noisy 
and blustering harbinger of a worthless and sense- 5 
less usurper. 

You will think that I shall never have done recom- 
mending to you these exterior worldly accomplish- 
ments, and you will think right, for I never shall. 
They are of too great consequence to you for me to 10 
be indifferent or negligent about them; the shining 
part of your future figure and fortune depends now 
wholly upon them. They are the acquisitions which 
must give efficacy and success to those you have 
already made. To have it said and believed that you 15 
are the most learned man in England would be no 
more than was said and believed of Dr. Bentley; but 
to have it said at the same time that you are also the 
best bred, most pclite, and agreeable man in the king- 
dom, would be such a happy composition of a char- 20 
acter as I never yet knew any one man deserve, and 
which I endeavor as well as ardently wish that you 
may. Absolute perfection is, I well know, unattain- 
able; but I know too that a man of parts may be 
unweariedly aiming at it, and arrive pretty near it. 25 
Try, labor, persevere. Adieu. 

his hair stood on end, and his voice stuck in his throat." (The original has the 
first verb in the first person). 

17 Dr. Bentley. (1662-1742.) The greatest classical scholar in England, who 
made enemies by his supercilious manner. 



120 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

Letter XXXV 

GOOD HANDWRITING 

London, Jan. the 28th, O. S. 1751. 
My Dear Friend: A bill for ninety pounds ster- 
ling was brought me the other day, said to be drawn 
upon me by you; I scrupled paying it at first, not 
5 upon account of the sum, but because you had sent 
me no letter of advice, which is always done in those 
transactions; and still more, because I did not per- 
ceive that you had signed it. The person who pre- 
sented it desired me to look again, and that I should 

10 discover your name at the bottom; accordingly I 
looked again, and with the help of my magnifying 
glass did perceive that what I had first taken only for 
somebody's mark was, in truth, your name, written 
in the worst and smallest hand I ever saw in my life. 

15 However, I paid it at a venture; though I would 
almost rather lose the money, than that such a 
signature should be yours. All gentlemen, and all 
men of business, write their names always in the 
same way, that their signature may be so well 

20 known as not to be easily counterfeited; and 
they generally sign in rather a larger character than 
their common hand; whereas your name was 
in a less, and a worse, than your common writing. 
This suggested to me the various accidents which 

25 may very probably happen to you, while you write 
so ill. For instance; if you were to write in such a 
character to the secretary's office, your letter would 
immediately be sent to the decipherer, as containing 



TO HIS SOW 121 

matters of the utmost secrecy, not fit to be trusted to 
the common character. If you were to write so to an 
antiquarian, he (knowing you to be a man of learn- 
ing) would certainly try it by the Runic, Celtic, or 
Sclavonian alphabet, never suspecting it to be a 5 
modern character. 

I have often told you that every man who has the 
use of his eyes and of his hand can write whatever 
hand he pleases; and it is plain that you can, since 
you write both the Greek and German characters, 10 
which you never learned of a writing-master, ex- 
tremely well, though your common hand, which you 
learned of a master, is an exceeding bad and illiberal 
one, equally unfit for business or common use. I 
do not desire that you should write the labored, stiff 15 
character of a writing-master: a man of business must 
write quick and well, and that depends singly upon 
use. I w r ould therefore advise you to get some very 
good writing-master at Paris, and apply to it for a 
month only, which will be sufficient; for, upon my 20 
word, the writing of a genteel plain hand of business 
is of much more importance than you think. You 
will say, it may be, that when you write so very ill, it 
is because you are in a hurry : to which I answer, Why 
are you ever in a hurry? a man of sense may be in 25 
haste, but can never be in a hurry, because he knows, 
that whatever he does in a hurry he must necessarily 
do very ill. He may be in haste to dispatch an affair, 
but he will take care not to let that haste hinder his 
doing it well. Little minds are in a hurry, when the 30 
object proves (as it commonly does) too big for them; 
they run, they hare, they puzzle, confound, and per- 
plex themselves; they want to do everything at once, 



122 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

and never do it at all. But a man of sense takes the 
time necessary for doing the thing he is about, well; 
and his haste to dispatch a business, only appears 
by the continuity of his application to it: he pursues 

5 it with a cool steadiness, and finishes it before he 
begins any other. I own your time is much taken 
up, and you have a great many different things to do ; 
but remember that you had much better do half of 
them well, and leave the other half undone, than do 

io them all indifferently. Moreover, the few seconds 
that are saved in the course of the day, by writing ill 
instead of well, do not amount to an object of time, 
by any means equivalent to the disgrace or ridicule of 
writing a scrawl. Consider, that if your very bad 

15 writing could furnish me with matter of ridicule, what 
will it not do to others, who do not view you in that 
partial light that I do. There was a Pope, I think it 
was Pope Chigi, who was justly ridiculed for his 
attention to little things, and his inability in great 

20 ones; and therefore called maximus in minimis, and 
minimus in maximis. Why? Because he attended 
to little things, when he had great ones to do. At 
this particular period of your life, and at the place you 
are now in, you have only little things to do; and 

25 you should make it habitual to you to do them well, 
that they may require no attention from you when you 
have, as I hope you will have, greater things to mind. 
Make a good handwriting familiar to you now, that 
you may hereafter have nothing but your matter to 

30 think of, when you have occasion to write to Kings 
and Ministers. Dance, dress, present .yourself habitu- 

20 Maximus .... in maximis. " In small things, the greatest ; in great 
things, the least," 



TO HIS SON 123 

ally well now, that you may have none of those little 
things to think of hereafter, and which will be all 
necessary to be done well occasionally, when you will 
have greater things to do. 

Letter XXXVI 

ENGAGING MANNERS', "a RESPECTABLE HOTTENTOT " 

London, Feb. the 28th, O. S. 1751. 5 
My Dear Friend: This epigram in Martial, 

11 Non arao te, Sabidi, nee possum dicere quare, 
Hoc tantum possum dicere, non amo te ; " 

has puzzled a great many people; who cannot con- 
ceive how it is possible not to love anybody, and yet 10 
not to know the reason why. I think I conceive Mar- 
tial's meaning very clearly, though the nature of epi- 
gram, which is to be short, would not allow him to 
explain it more fully; and I take it to be this: "O 
Sabidis, you are a very worthy deserving man; you 15 
have a thousand good qualities, you have a great deal 
of learning: I esteem, I respect, but for the soul of 
me I cannot love, you, though I cannot particularly 
say why. You are not aimable; you have not those 
engaging manners, those pleasing attentions, those 20 
graces, and that address, which are absolutely neces- 

7 Non amo te, etc. Freely translated in lines 14, etc. The familiar English 
version originated as follows: T. Brown C1663-1704) while a student at Christ 
Church, Oxford, being in disgrace, was set by Dr. Fell, the Dean of the College, to 
translate this epigram of Martial. He rendered it thus : 

" I do not love thee, Doctor Fell, 
The reason why I cannot tell ; 
But this alone T know full well, 
I do not love thee, Doctor Fell." 
19 Aimable. Amiable. 



124 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

sary to please, though impossible to define. I cannot 
say it is this or that particular thing that hinders me 
from loving you, it is the whole together; and upon 
the whole you are not agreeable. " How often have 
5 I, in the course of my life, found myself in this situa- 
tion, with regard to many of my acquaintance, whom 
I have honored and respected, without being able to 
love! I did not know why, because, when one is 
young, one does not take the trouble, nor allow one's 

io self the time, to analyze one's sentiments, and to trace 
them up to their source. But subsequent observa- 
tion and reflection have taught me why. 

There is a man, whose moral character, deep learn- 
ing, and superior parts, I acknowledge, admire, and 

15 respect; but whom it is so impossible for me to love, 
that I am almost in a fever whenever I am in his com- 
pany. His figure (without being deformed) seems 
made to disgrace or ridicule the common structure of 
the human body. His legs and arms are never in the 

20 position which, according to the situation of his body, 
they ought to be in; but constantly employed in com- 
mitting acts of hostility upon the graces. He throws 
anywhere, but down his throat, whatever he means to 
drink; and only mangles what he means to carve. 

25 Inattentive to all the regards of social life, he mis- 
times or misplaces everything. He disputes with 
heat, and indiscriminately; mindless of the rank, 
character, and situation of those with whom he dis- 
putes: absolutely ignorant of the several gradations 

30 of familiarity or respect, he is exactly the same to his 

superiors, his equals, and his inferiors; and therefore, 

. by a necessary consequence, absurd to two of the 

three. Is it possible to love such a man? No. The 



TO HIS SOIST 125 

utmost I can do for him, is to consider him as a 
respectable Hottentot. 



Letter XXXVII 

" SUAVITER IN MODO, FORTITER IN RE " 

My Dear Friend: I mentioned to you some time 
ago, a sentence, which I would most earnestly wish 
you always to retain in your thoughts and observe in 5 
your conduct. It is Suaviter in mo do, fortiter in re. 
I do not know any one rule so unexceptionally useful 
and necessary in every part of life. I shall therefore 
take it for my text to-day; and as old men love 
preaching, and I have some light to preach to you, 1 10 
here present you with my sermon upon these words. 
To proceed then regularly and pulpitically, I will first 
show you, my beloved, the necessary connection of the 
two members of my text, — Suaviter in modo: fortiter 
in re. In the next place, I shall set forth the advan- 15 ~ 
tages and utility resulting from a strict observance of 
the precept contained in my text; and conclude with 
an application of the whole. The suaviter in modo 
alone w T ould degenerate and sink into a mean, timid 
complaisance and passiveness, if not supported and 20 
dignified by the fortiter in re, which would also run 

2 A respectable Hottentot. This is supposed to refer to Dr. Samuel John- 
son, whose manners, especially at table, must have been extremely repugnant to 
Lord Chesterfield's sensibilities. See Macaulay's Essay on Johnson, Maynard's 
English Classic Series, No. 178. 

6 Suaviter in modo, fortiter in re. " Suave in manner, firm in act." "An 
iron hand in a velvet glove." 

12 Pulpitically. After the manner of the pulpit. Observe how, throughout 
the letter, he imitates the style of a preacher. 



126 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

into impetuosity and brutality, if not tempered and 
softened by the suaviter in mo do: however, they are 
seldom united. The warm, choleric man with strong 
animal spirits despises the suaviter in modo, and thinks 
5 to carry all before him by the fortiter in re. He may 
possibly, by great accident, now and then succeed, 
when he has only weak and timid people to deal with; 
but his general fate will be to shock, offend, be hated, 
and fail. On the other hand, the cunning, crafty man 

io thinks to gain all his ends by the suaviter in modo 
only; lie becomes all things to all men; he seems to 
have no opinion of his own, and servilely adopts the 
present opinion of the present person; he insinuates 
himself only into the esteem of fools, but is soon de- 

15 tected, and surely despised by everybody else. The 
wise man (who differs as much from the cunning as 
from the choleric man) alone joins the suaviter in 
modo with the fortiter in re. Now to the advantages 
arising from the strict observance of this precept. If 

20 you are in authority and have a right to command, 
your commands delivered suaviter in modo will be 
willingly, cheerfully, and consequently well obeyed; 
whereas, if given only fortiter, that is brutally, they 
will rather, as Tacitus says, be interrupted than exe- 

25 cuted. For my own part, if I bid my footman bring 
me a glass of wine in a rough, insulting manner, I 
should expect that in obeying me he would contrive 
to spill some of it upon me, and I am sure I should 
deserve it. A cool, steady resolution should show 

30 you that w r here you have a right to command you will 
be obeyed, but at the same time a gentleness in the 
manner of enforcing that obedience could make it a 

11 All things to all men. A perversion of St. Paul's advice to Timothy. 



TO HIS SON 127 

cheerful one, and soften as much as possible the 
mortifying consciousness of inferiority. If you are to 
ask a favor or even to solicit your due you must do it 
suaviter in mo do or you will give those who have a 
mind to refuse you either, a pretense to do it by resent- 5 
ing the manner; but on the other hand you must by 
a steady perseverance and decent tenaciousness show 
the fortiter in re. The right motives are seldom the 
true ones of men's actions, especially of kings, min- 
isters, and people in high stations, who often give to 10 
importunity and fear what they would refuse to 
justice or to merit. By the suaviter in mo do engage 
their hearts if you can: at least prevent the pretense 
of offense: but take care to show enough of the 
fortiter in re to extort from their love of ease or their 151 
fear what you might in vain hope for from their jus- 
tice or good nature. People in high life are har- 
dened to the wants and distresses of mankind as 
surgeons are to their bodily pains; they see and hear 
of them all day long, and even of so many simulated 2c/ 
ones that they do not know which are real and which 
are not. Other sentiments are therefore to be ap- 
plied to than those of mere justice and humanity. 
Their favor must be captivated by the suaviter in 
mode; their love of ease disturbed by unwearied 25 
importunity; or their fears wrought upon by a decent 
intimation of implacable cool resentment, — this is 
the true fortiter in re. This precept is the only way 
I know in the world of being loved without being 
despised, and feared without being hated. It consti- 30 
tutes the dignity of character which every wise man 
must endeavor to establish. 

81 Dignity of character. This should be dignity of manner^ which may be 



128 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

Now to apply what has been said, and so con- 
clude. 

If you find that you have a hastiness in your tem- 
per which unguardedly breaks out into indiscreet 
5 sallies or rough expressions to either your superiors, 
your equals, or your inferiors, watch it narrowly, 
check it carefully, and call the suavitcr in mo do to your 
assistance; at the first impulse of passion, be silent 
till you can be soft. Labor even to get the command 

io of your countenance so well that those emotions may 
not be read in it, — a most unspeakable advantage in 
business. On the other hand, let no complaisance, 
no gentleness of temper, no weak desire of pleasing 
on your part, no wheedling, coaxing, nor flattery on 

15 other people's, make you recede one jot from any 
point that reason and prudence have bid you pursue; 
but return to the charge, persist, persevere, and you 
will find most things attainable that are possible. A 
yielding, timid meekness is always abused and in- 

20 suited by the unjust and the unfeeling; but when 
sustained by the fortitcr in re is always respected, 
commonly successful. In your friendships and con- 
nections, as well as in your enmities, this rule is par- 
ticularly useful: let your firmness and vigor preserve 

25 and invite attachments to you, but at the same time 
let your manner hinder the enemies of your friends 
and dependents from becoming yours; let your ene- 
mies be disarmed by the gentleness of your manner, 
but let them feel at the same time the steadiness of 

30 your just resentment, — for there is a great difference 
between bearing malice, which is always ungenerous, 

the outward manifestation of dignity of character. Lord Chesterfield is prone to 
emphasize externals to the neglect of true nobility of soul. 



TO HIS SON 129 

and a resolute self-defense, which is always prudent 
and justifiable. 

Some people cannot gain upon themselves to be 
easy and civil to those who are either their rivals, 
competitors, or opposers, though, independently of 5 
these accidental circumstances, they would like and 
esteem them. They betray a shyness and an awk- 
wardness in company w r ith them, and catch at any 
little thing to expose them, and so from temporary 
and only occasional opponents make them their per- 10 
sonal enemies. This is exceedingly weak and detri- 
mental, as indeed is all humor in business, which can 
only be carried on successfully by unadulterated good 
policy and right reasoning. In such situations I 
would be more particularly and noblement civil, easy, 15 
and frank with the man whose designs I traversed. 
This is commonly called generosity and magnanimity, 
but is in truth good sense and policy. The manner is 
often as important as the matter, sometimes more so. 
A favor may make an enemy and an injury may make 20 
a friend, according to the different manner in which 
they are severally done. The countenance, the ad- 
dress, the w T ords, the enunciation, the Graces add 
great efficacy to the suaviter in modo and great dig- 
nity to the fortiter in re; and consequently they de-25 
serve the utmost attention. 

From what has been said, I conclude with this 
observation, — that gentleness of manners with firm- 
ness of mind is a short but full description of human 
perfection on this side of religious and moral duties. 30 

12 Humor. Ill temper. 
15 Noblement. Nobly. 



130 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

That you may be seriously convinced of this truth 
and show it in your life and conversation, is the most 
sincere and ardent wish of Yours. 



Letter XXXVIII 

BUSINESS HABITS 

London, Dec. the 19th, O. S. 1751. 

5 My Dear Friend: You are now entered upon a 
scene of business, where I hope you will one day 
make a figure. Use does a great deal, but care and 
attention must be joined to it. The first thing neces- 
sary in writing letters of business, is extreme clear- 

10 ness and perspicuity; every paragraph should be so 
clear, and unambiguous, that the dullest fellow in the 
world may not be able to mistake it, nor obliged to 
read it twice in order to understand it. This neces- 
sary clearness implies a correctness, without exclud- 

15 ing an elegancy of style. Tropes, figures, antitheses, 
epigrams, etc., would be as misplaced, and as imper- 
tinent, in letters of business, as they are sometimes (if 
judiciously used) proper and pleasing in familiar 
letters, upon common and trite subjects. In busi- 

20 ness, an elegant simplicity, the result of care, not of 
labor, is required. Business must be well, not 
affectedly, dressed, but by no means negligently. Let 
your first attention be to clearness, and read every 
paragraph after you have written it, in the critical 

25 view of discovering whether it is possible that any 
one man can mistake the true sense. of it; and correct 
it accordingly. 

Our pronouns and relatives often create obscurity 



TO HIS SON 131 

or ambiguity; be therefore exceedingly attentive to 
them, and take care to mark out with precision their 
particular relations. For example; Mr. Johnson ac- 
quainted me, that he had seen Mr. Smith, who had 
promised him to speak to Mr. Clarke, to return him 5 
(Mr. Johnson) those papers, which he (Mr. Smith) 
had left some time ago with him (Mr. Clarke): it is 
better to repeat a name, though unnecessarily, ten 
times, than to have the person mistaken once. 

Business does not exclude (as possibly you wish it 10 
did) the usual terms of politeness and good breeding; 
but, on the contrary, strictly requires them: such as, 
/ have the honor to acquaint your Lordship; Permit me 
to assure you; If I may be allozvcd to give my opinion, 
etc. For the Minister abroad, who writes to the Min- 15 
ister at home, writes to his superior; possibly to his 
patron, or at least to one who he desires should be so. 

Letters of business will not only admit of, but be 
the better for, certain graces: but then they must be 
scattered with a sparing and a skillful hand; they 20 
must fit their place exactly. They must decently 
adorn without encumbering, and modestly shine with- 
out glaring. But as this is the utmost degree of per- 
fection in letters of business, I would not advise you 
to attempt those embellishments till you have first 25 
laid your foundation well. 

But (I repeat it again) there is an elegant simplicity 
and dignity of style absolutely necessary for good 
letters of business ; attend to that carefully. Let your 
periods be harmonious, without seeming to be 30 
labored; and let them not be too long, for that always 
occasions a degree of obscurity. I should not men- 
tion correct orthography, but that you very often fail 



I3 2 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

in that particular, which will bring ridicule upon you; 
for no man is allowed to spell ill. I wish, too, that 
your handwriting were much better: and I cannot 
conceive why it is not, since every man may certainly 
5 write whatever hand he pleases. Neatness in folding 
up, sealing, and directing your packets, is by no 
means to be neglected, though I dare say you think 
it is. But there is something in the exterior, even of 
a packet, that may please or displease; and conse- 

io quently worth some attention. 

You say that your time is very well employed, and 
so it is, though as yet only in the outlines and first 
routine of business. They are previously necessary to 
be known; they smooth the way for parts and dex- 

15 terity. Business requires no conjuration nor super- 
natural talents, as people unacquainted with it are apt 
to think. Method, diligence, and discretion will carry 
a man of good strong common sense much higher 
than the finest parts without them can do. Par 

20 negotiis, ncquc supra, is the true character of a man 
of business: but then it implies ready attention, and 
no absences; and a flexibility and versatility of atten- 
tion from one object to another, without being en- 
grossed by any one. 

25 Be upon your guard against the pedantry and 
affectation of business, which young people are apt 
to fall into from the pride of being concerned in it 
young. They look thoughtful, complain of the 
weight of business, throw out mysterious hints, and 

30 seem big with secrets which they do not know. Do 
you, on the contrary, never talk of business, but to 

19 Par negotiis, neque supra. Tacitus. " Neither above nor below his 
business." 



TO HIS SON 133 

those with whom you are to transact it; and learn to 
seem vacuus, and idle, when you have the most busi- 
ness. Of all things the volto sciolto, and the pensieri 
stretti, are necessary. Adieu. 

Letter XXXIX 

READING HISTORY 

London, February the 14th, O. S. 1752. 5 
My Dear Friend: In a month's time, I believe, I 
shall have the pleasure of sending you, and you will 
have the pleasure of reading, a work of Lord Boling- 
broke's in two volumes octavo, Upon the Use of His- 
tory; in several Letters to Lord Hyde, then Lord 10 
Cornbury. It is now put into the press. It is hard 
to determine whether this work will instruct or please 
most: the most material historical facts, from the 
great era of the treaty of Miinster, are touched upon, 
accompanied by the most solid reflections, and 15 
adorned by all that elegancy of style, which was 
peculiar to himself, and in which, if Cicero equals, he 
certainly does not exceed him; but every other writer 

2 Vacuus. Empty. 

3 Volto sciolto. Open countenance. II volto sciolto et i pensieri stretti is 
an Italian proverb : Preserve an opeii countenance, but conceal your thoiights. 

8 Lord Bolingbroke's. Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbroke. (1678-1751.) 
A handsome, brilliant, eloquent, licentious, and unprincipled politician. " Lord 
Bolingbroke," said Aaron Hill, "was the finest gentleman I ever saw." "To 
make St. John more polite," was a synonym for an impossibility. He was a mas- 
ter of English style, and has been called " the Cicero of our tongue." Pitt said 
" I would rather have a speech of Bolingbroke's than any of the lost treasures of 
antiquity." 

14 Treaty of Miinster. The treaty of Munster (or Westphalia), October 24, 
1648, closed the Thirty Years' War, and became the basis of European interna- 
tional law. 



134 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

falls short of him. I would advise you almost to get 
this book by heart. I think you have a turn to his- 
tory, you love it, and have a memory to retain it; 
this book will teach you the proper use of it. Some 
5 people load their memories, indiscriminately, with 
historical facts, as others do their stomachs with food; 
and bring out the one, and bring up the other, entirely 
crude and undigested. You will find in Lord Boling- 
broke's book, an infallible specific against that 

io epidemical complaint. 

I remember a gentleman, who had read History in 
this thoughtless and undistinguishing manner, and 
who, having traveled, had gone through the Valte- 
line. He told me that it was a miserable, poor coun- 

15 try, and therefore it w r as, surely, a great error in 
Cardinal Richelieu, to make such a rout, and put 
France to so much expense about it. Had my friend 
read History as he ought to have done, he would 
have known that the great object of that great Minis- 

20 ter was to reduce the power of the house of Austria; 
and, in order to that, to cut off as much as he could 
the communication between the several parts of their 
extensive dominions; which reflections would have 
justified the Cardinal to him in the affair of the 

25 Valteline. But it was easier to him to remember 
facts, than to combine and reflect. 

13 Valteline. The upper valley of the Adda, in the extreme north of Italy. 
Spelled, also, Valtelline and Valtellina. 

16 Cardinal Richelieu. (1585-1642.) An able French statesman, prime min- 
ister of Louis XIII., and virtual ruler of France from 1624 till his death. 



TO HIS SON 135 



Letter XL 



AIM AT PERFECTION 



London, Feby. 20, O. S. 1752. 

My Dear Friend: In all systems whatever, 
whether of religion, government, morals, etc., per- 
fection is the object always proposed, though 
possibly unattainable, — hitherto at least certainly 5 
unattained. However, those who aim carefully at 
the mark itself will unquestionably come nearer to it 
than those who from despair, negligence, or indolence 
leave to chance the work of skill. This maxim holds 
equally true in common life; those who aim at per- 10 
fection will come infinitely nearer it than those 
desponding or indolent spirits who foolishly say to 
themselves, " Nobody is perfect ; perfection is un- 
attainable; to attempt it is chimerical; I shall do as 
well as others; why then should I give myself trouble 15 
to be what I never can, and what according to the 
common course of things I need not be, — perfect? " 

I am very sure that I need not point out to you the 
weakness and the folly of this reasoning. It would 
discourage and put a stop to the exertion of any one 20 
of our faculties. On the contrary, a man of sense 
and spirit says to himself, " Though the point of per- 
fection may (considering the imperfection of our 
nature) be unattainable, my care, my endeavors, my 
attention, shall not be wanting to get as near to it as 25 
I can. I will approach it every day: possibly I may 
arrive at it at last; at least — what I am sure is in my 
own power — I will not be distanced." Many fools 



I3 6 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

(speaking of you) say to me, "What! would you 
have him perfect?" I answer, Why not? What 
hurt would it do to him or me? " Oh, but that is 
impossible," say they; I reply, I am not sure of that: 
5 perfection in the abstract I admit to be unattainable, 
but what is commonly called perfection in a charac- 
ter, I maintain to be attainable, and not onlv that, but 
in every man's power. " He has," continue they, " a 
good head, a good heart, a good fund of knowledge, 

10 which would increase daily: what would you have 
more?" Why, I would have everything more that 
can adorn and complete a character. Will it do his 
head, his heart, or his knowledge any harm to have 
the utmost delicacy of manners, the most shining 

15 advantages of air and address, the most endearing 
attentions and the most engaging graces? " But as 
he is," say they, 4i he is loved wherever he is known." 
I am very glad of it, say I : but I would have him be 
liked before he is known and loved afterward. I 

20 would have him by his first abord and address, make 
people wish to know him, and inclined to love him; 
he will save a great deal of time by it. " Indeed," 
reply they, " you are too nice, too exact, and lay too 
much stress upon things that are of very little conse- 

25 quence." Indeed, rejoin I, you know very little of 
the nature of mankind, if you take these things to be 
of little consequence; one cannot be too attentive to 
them; it is they that always engage the heart, of which 
the understanding is commonly the bubble. And I 

30 would much rather that he erred in a point of gram- 
mar, of history, of philosophy, etc., than in point of 
manners and address. " But consider, he is very 
young: all this will come in time." I hope so; but 



TO HIS SON 137 

that time must be when he is young, or it will never 
be at all; the right pli must be taken young, or it will 
never be easy or seem natural. " Come, come," say 
they (substituting as is frequently done, assertion 
instead of argument), " depend upon it, he will do 5 
very well; and you have a great deal of reason to be 
satisfied with him." I hope and believe he will do 
well, but I would have him do better than well. I 
am very well pleased with him, but I would be 
more, — I would be proud of him. I would have him 10 
have luster as well as weight. k< Did you ever know 
anybody that re-united all these talents?" Yes, I 
did: Lord Bolingbroke joined all the politeness, the 
manners, and the graces of a courtier to the solidity 
of a statesman and to the learning of a pedant. He 15 
was omnis homo; and pray what should hinder my 
boy from being so too, if he has, as I think he has, 
all the other qualifications that you allow him? 
Nothing can hinder him but neglect of or inattention 
to those objects which his own good sense must tell 20 
him are of infinite consequence to him, and which 
therefore I will not suppose him capable of either 
neglecting or despising. 

This (to tell you the whole truth) is the result of a 
controversy that passed yesterday between Lady 25 
Hervy and myself, upon your subject and almost in 
the very w T ords. I submit the decision of it to your- 
self; let your ow r n good sense determine it, and make 
you act in consequence of that determination. The 
receipt to make this composition is short and infal-30 
lible; here I give it you: — 

2 Pli. Bent, direction. 

16 Omnis homo. " A man symmetrically developed in every faculty." 



138 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

Take variety of the best company wherever you are; 
be minutely attentive to every word and action; imi- 
tate respectively those whom you observe to be 
distinguished and considered for any one accomplish- 
5ment; then mix all those several accomplishments 
together and serve them up yourself to others. 



Letter XLI 

health: time: idleness 

London, March the 5th, O. S. 1752. 
My Dear Friend: As I have received no letter 
from you by the usual post, I am uneasy upon account 

10 of your health ; for, had you been well, I am sure you 
would have written, according to your engagement, 
and my requisition. You have not the least notion 
of any care of your health: but, though I would not 
have you be a valetudinarian, I must tell you, that the 

15 best and most robust health requires some degree of 
attention to preserve. Young fellows, thinking they 
have so much health and time before them, are very 
apt to neglect or lavish both, and beggar themselves 
before they are aware: whereas a prudent economy 

20 in both, would make them rich indeed; and so far 
from breaking in upon their pleasures, would improve 
and almost perpetuate them. Be you wiser; and, be- 
fore it is too late, manage both with care and fru- 
gality; and lay out neither, but upon good interest 

25 and security. 

I will now confine myself to the employment of 
your time, which, though I have often touched upon 



TO HIS SON 139 

formerly, is a subject that, from its importance, will 
bear repetition. Ycu have, it is true, a great deal of 
time before you; but, in this period of your life, one 
hour usefully employed may be worth more than 
four-and-twenty hereafter; a minute is precious to 5 
you now, whole days may possibly not be so forty 
years hence. Whatever time you allow or can snatch 
for serious reading (I say snatch, because company, 
and the knowledge of the world, is now your chief 
object), employ it in the reading of some one book, 10 
and that a good one, till you have finished it: and do 
not distract your mind with various matters at the 
same time. In this light I would recommend to you 
to read tout de suite Grotius de Jure Belli et Pacis, 
translated by Barbeyrac, and Puffendorf's Jus Gen- 15 
Hum, translated by the same hand. For accidental 
quarters of hours, read works of invention, wit, and 
humor, of the best, and not of trivial, authors, either 
ancient or modern. 

Whatever business you have, do it the first moment 20 
you can; never by halves, but finish it without inter- 
ruption, if possible. Business must not be sauntered 
and trifled with; and you must not say to it, as Felix 
did to Paul, " at a more convenient season I will speak 
to thee." The most convenient season for business 25 
is the first; but study and business, in some measure, 
point out their own times to a man of sense; time is 
much oftener squandered away in the wrong choice 
and improper methods of amusement and pleasures. 

Many people think that they are in pleasures, pro- 30 

14 Tout de suite. Immediately. 

14 De Jure Belli et Pacis. On the Law of War and Peace. 

15 Jus Gentium. The Law of Nations. 



14° LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

vided they are neither in study nor in business. 
Nothing like it; they are doing nothing, and might 
just as well be asleep. They contract habitudes 
from laziness, and they only frequent those places 
5 where they are free from all restraints and attentions. 
Be upon your guard against this idle profusion of 
time: and let every place you go to be either the 
scene of quick and lively pleasures, or the school 
of your improvements: let every company you go 

io into, either gratify your senses, extend your knowl- 
edge, or refine your manners. Have some decent 
object of gallantry in view at some places; frequent 
others, where people of wit and taste assemble; get 
into others, where people of superior rank and dignity 

15 command respect and attention from the rest of the 
company; but pray frequent no neutral places, from 
mere idleness and indolence. Nothing forms a young 
man so much as being used to keep respectable and 
superior company, where a constant regard and atten- 

20 tion is necessary. It is true, this is at first a dis- 
agreeable state of restraint; but it soon grows 
habitual, and consequently easy; and you are amply 
paid for it, by the improvement you make, and the 
credit it gives you. 

25 Sloth, indolence, and mollesse are pernicious and 
unbecoming a young fellow; let them be your res- 
source forty years hence at soonest. Determine, at 
all events and however disagreeable it may be to you 
in some respects, and for some time, to keep the most 

30 distinguished and fashionable company of the place 
you are at, either for their rank, or for their learning, 

25 Mollesse. Softness, effeminacy. 

26 Ressource. Resource. 



TO HIS SON 141 

or le bel esprit et le gout. This gives you credentials 
to the best companies, wherever you go afterward. 
Pray, therefore, no idolence, no laziness; but employ 
every minute of your life in active pleasures or useful 
employments. Address yourself to some woman of 5 
fashion and beauty, wherever you are, and try how 
far that will go. If the place be not secured before- 
hand, and garrisoned, nine times in ten you will take 
it. By attentions and respect, you may always get 
into the highest company; and by some admiration 10 
and applause, whether merited or not, you may be 
sure of being welcome among les savants ct les beaux 
esprits. There are but these three sorts of company 
for a young fellow; there being neither pleasure nor 
profit in any other. 15 

Letter XLII 

AVOIR DU MONDE 

London, April the 30th, O. S. 1752. 
My Dear Friend: Avoir die monde is, in my 
opinion, a very just and happy expression, for hav- 
ing address, manners, and for knowing how r to behave 
properly in all companies; and it implies, very truly, 20 
that a man that hath not these accomplishments is 
not of the world. Without them, the best parts are 
inefficient, civility is absurd, and freedom offensive. 
A learned parson, rusting in his cell at Oxford or 
Cambridge, will reason admirably w T ell upon the 25 
nature of man; will profoundly analyze the head, the 

1 Le bel esprit, etc. Wit and style. 

12 Les savants, etc. The wise and the witty. 

17 Avoir du monde. To have a knowledge of the world. 



142 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

heart, the reason, the will, the passions, the senses, 
the sentiments, and all those subdivisions of we know 
not what; and yet, unfortunately, he knows nothing 
of man: for he hath not lived with him; and is igno- 
5 rant of all the various modes, habits, prejudices, and 
tastes, that always influence, and often determine him. 
He views man as he does colors in Sir Isaac Newton's 
prism, where only the capital ones are seen; but an 
experienced dyer knows all their various shades and 

10 gradations, together with the result of their several 
mixtures. Few men are of one plain, decided color; 
most are mixed, shaded, and blended; and vary as 
much, from different situations, as changeable silks 
do from different lights. The man qui a du monde 

15 knows all this from his own experience and observa- 
tion: the conceited, cloistered philosopher knows 
nothing of it from his own theory; his practice is 
absurd and improper; and he acts as awkwardly as a 
man would dance, who has never seen others dance, 

20 nor learned of a dancing-master; but who had only 
studied the notes by which dances are now pricked 
down, as well as tunes. Observe and imitate, then, 
the address, the arts, and the manners of those qui 
out du monde: see by what methods they first make, 

25 and afterward improve, impressions in their favor. 
Those impressions are much oftener owing to little 
causes, than to intrinsic merit; which is less volatile, 
and hath not so sudden an effect. Strong minds have 
undoubtedly an ascendant over weak ones, as Galigai 

30 Marechale d'Ancre very justly observed, when to the 

14 Qui a du monde. Who has this knowledge of the world. 
23 Qui ont, etc. Who have, etc. 

29 Galigai. Leonora Galigai, wife of Concini, Marshal Ancre, was executed 
as a sorceress in 1617. 



TO HIS SON 143 

disgrace and reproach of those times, she was exe- 
cuted for having governed Mary of Medicis by the 
arts of witchcraft and magic. But the ascendant is 
to be gained by degrees, and by those arts only which 
experience and the knowledge of the world teaches: 5 
for few are mean enough to be bullied, though most 
are weak enough to be bubbled. I have often seen 
people of superior governed by people of much 
inferior parts, without knowing or even suspecting 
that they were so governed. This can only happen, 10 
when those people of inferior parts have more worldly 
dexterity and experience than those they govern. 
They see the weak and unguarded part, and apply to 
it: they take it, and all the rest follows. Would you 
gain either men or women, and every man of sense 15 
desires to gain both, il fant du monde. You have had 
more opportunities than ever any man had, at your 
age, of acquiring ce monde; you have been in the 
best companies of most countries, at an age when 
others have hardly been in any company at all. You 20 
are master of all those languages, which John Trott 
seldom speaks at all, and never well; consequently 
you need be a stranger nowhere. This is the way, 
and the only way, of having du monde; but if you 
have it not, and have still any coarse rusticity about 25 
you, may one not apply to you the rusticus expectat 
of Horace? 

2 Mary of Medicis. Wife of Henry IV. of France, mother of Louis XIII., and 
queen regent of France from the assassination of Henry IV. in 1610 to the accession 
of Louis XIII. in 1614. 

16 II faut du monde. You must know the world. 

13 Ce monde. This (knowledge of the) world. 

21 John Trott. The average Englishman. 

26 Rusticus expectat, dum defluat amnis. Horace, Epistles, I. 2, 42. "The 
countryman wai*" i r or the river to run dry." 



144 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

This knowledge of the world teaches us more par- 
ticularly two things, both which are of infinite con- 
sequence, and to neither of which nature inclines us; 
I mean, the command of ur temper and of our 

5 countenance. A man who has no mondc is inflamed 
with anger, or annihilated with shame, at every dis- 
agreeable incident: the one makes him act and talk 
like a madman, the other makes him look like a fool. 
But a man who has du mondc seems not to understand 

io what he cannot or ought not to resent. If he makes 
a slip himself, he recoveps it by his coolness, instead 
of plunging deeper by his confusion, like a stumbling 
horse. He is firm, but gentle; and practices that 
most excellent maxim, suaviter in modo, fortiter in re. 

15 The other is the volto sciolto c pensieri strctti. People 
unused to the world have babbling countenances; 
and are unskillful enough to show what they have 
sense enough not to tell. In the course of the world, 
a man must very often put on an easy, frank counte- 

20 nance upon very disagreeable occasions; he must 
seem pleased when he is very much otherwise; he 
must be able to accost, and receive with smiles, those 
whom he would much rather meet with swords. In 
Courts he must not turn himself inside out. All this 

25 may, nay must, be done without falsehood and 
treachery: for it must go no further than politeness 
and manners, and must stop short of assurances and 
professions of simulated friendship. Good manners, 
to those one does not love, are no more a breach of 

30 truth than " your humble servant " at the bottom of 
a challenge is ; they are universally- agreed upon, and 
understood, to be things of course. They are neces- 
sary guards of the decency and peace of society: they 



TO HIS SON 145 

must only act defensively; and then not with arms 
poisoned with perfidy. Truth, but not the whole 
truth, must be the invariable principle of every man, 
who hath either religion, honor, or prudence. Those 
who violate it may be cunning, but they are not able. 5 
Lies and perfidy are the refuge of fools and cowards. 
Adieu! 

Letter XLIII 

CIVILITY 

London, May the nth, O. S. 1752. 

My Dear Friend : I break my word by writing this 
letter; but I break it on the allowable side, by doing 10 
more than I promised. I have pleasure in writing to 
you; and you may possibly have some profit in read- 
ing what I write; either of the motives were sufficient 
for me, both I cannot withstand. 

Another thing, which I most earnestly recommend 15 
to you, not only in Germany, but in every part of 
the world, where you may ever be, is, not only real, 
but seeming attention, to whomever you speak to, 
or to whoever speaks to you. There is nothing so 
brutally shocking, nor so little forgiven, as a seeming 20 
inattention to the person who is speaking to you; 
and I have known many a man knocked down, for 
(in my opinion) a much slighter provocation, than 
that shocking inattention which I mean. I have seen 
many people, who while you are speaking to them, 25 
instead of looking at, and attending to, you, fix their 
eyes upon the ceiling, or some other part of the 
room, look out of the window, play with a dog, twirl 
their snuff-box, or pick their nose. Nothing dis- 



146 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

covers a little, futile, frivolous mind more than this, 
and nothing is so offensively ill-bred: it is an explicit 
declaration on your part, that every, the most trifling 
object, deserves your attention more than all that 
5 can be said by the person who is speaking to you. 
Judge of the sentiments of hatred and resentment, 
which such treatment must excite, in every breast 
where any degree of self-love dwells; and I am sure 
I never yet met with that breast where there was not 

10 a great deal. I repeat it again and again (for it is 
highly necessary for you to remember it), that sort 
of vanity and self-love is inseparable from human 
nature, whatever may be its rank or condition; even 
your footman will sooner forget and forgive a beating 

15 than any manifest mark of slight and contempt. Be 
therefore, I beg of you, not only really, but seem- 
ingly and manifestly, attentive to whoever speaks to 
you; nay more, take their tone, and tune yourself 
to their unison. Be serious with the serious, gay with 

20 the gay, and trifle with the triflers. In assuming 
these various shapes, endeavor to make each of them 
seem to sit easy upon you, and even to appear to 
be your own natural one. This is the true and useful 
versatility of which a thorough knowledge of the 

25 world at once teaches the utility, and the means of 
acquiring. 

I am very sure, at least I hope, that you will never 
make use of a silly expression, which is the favorite 
expression, and the absurd excuse of all fools and 

30 blockheads; / cannot do such a thing: a thing by no 
means either morally or physically impossible. I 
cannot attend long together to the same thing, says 
one fool: that is, he is such a fool that he will not. 



TO HIS SON 147 

I remember a very awkward fellow, who did not 
know what to do with his sword, and who always took 
it off before dinner, saying, that he could not possibly 
dine with his sword on; upon which I could not help 
telling him that I really believed he could, without 5 
any probable danger either to himself or others. It 
is a shame and an absurdity, for any man to say, that 
he cannot do all those things which are commonly 
done by all the rest of mankind. 

Another thing, that I must earnestly warn you 10 
against, is laziness; by which more people have lost 
the fruit of their travels, than (perhaps) by any other 
thing. Pray be always in motion. Early in the 
morning go and see things; and the rest of the day 
go and see people. If you stay but a week at a place, 15 
and that an insignificant one, see, however, all that is 
to be seen there; know as many people, and get into 
as many houses, as ever you can. 

I recommend to you likewise, though probably you 
have thought of it yourself, to carry in your pocket 20 
a map of Germany, in which the post roads are 
marked; and also some short book of travels through 
Germany. The former will help to imprint in your 
memory situations and distances; and the latter will 
point out many things for you to see, that might 25 
otherwise possibly escape you; and which, though 
they may in themselves be of little consequence, you 
would regret not having seen, after having been at 
the places where they were. 

Thus warned and provided for your journey, God 30 
speed you; Felix faustumque sit! Adieu. 

81 Felix faustumque sit. ' w May it [the journey] be pleasant and propitious." 



148 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

Letter XLIV 

KNOWLEDGE OF BOOKS: IGNORANCE OF MEN 

London, May the 27th, O. S. 1753. 
My Dear Friend: I have this clay been tired, 
jaded, nay, tormented, by the company of a most 
worthy, sensible, and learned man, a near relation of 
5 mine, who dined and passed the evening with me. 
This seems a paradox, but it is a plain truth; he has no 
knowledge of the world, no manners, no address; far 
from talking without book, as is commonly said of 
people who talk sillily, he only talks by book; which, 

10 in general conversation, is ten times worse. He has 
formed in his own closet, from books, certain systems 
of everything, argues tenaciously upon those princi- 
ples, and is both surprised and angry at whatever 
deviates from them. His theories are good, but, 

15 unfortunately, are all impractical. Why? Because 
he has only read, and not conversed. He is 
acquainted with books, and an absolute stranger to 
men. Laboring with his matter, he is delivered of 
it with pangs; he hesitates, stops in his utterance, 

20 and always expresses himself inelegantly. His actions 
are all ungraceful; so that, with all his merit and 
knowledge, I would rather converse six hours with 
the most frivolous tittle-tattle woman, who knew 
something of the world, than with him. The prepos- 

25 terous notions of a systematical man, who does not 
know the world, tire the patience of a man who does. 
It would be endless to correct his mistakes, nor would 
he take it kindly; for he has considered everything 



TO HIS SON 149 

deliberately, and is very sure that he is in the right. 
Impropriety is a characteristic, and a never-failing 
one, of these people. Regardless, because ignorant, 
of custom and manners, they violate them every 
moment. They often shock, though they never mean & 
to offend; never attending either to the general char- 
acter, or the particular distinguishing circumstances 
of the people to whom, or before whom, they talk: 
whereas the knowledge of the world teaches one that 
the very same things which are exceedingly right 10. 
and proper in one company, time, and place, are 
exceedingly absurd in others. In short, a man who 
has great knowledge, from experience and observa- 
tion of the characters, customs, and manner^ of man- 
kind, is a being as different from, and as superior to, 15 
a man of mere book and systematical knowledge, as 
a well-managed horse is to an ass. Study therefore, 
cultivate, and frequent, men and women; not only 
in their outward, and consequently guarded, but in 
their interior, domestic, and consequently less dis- 20 
guised, characters, and manners. Take your notions 
of things, as by observation and experience you find 
they really are, and not as you read that they are 
or should be; for they never are quite what they 
should be. For this purpose do not content yourself 25 
with general and common acquaintance; but, wherever 
you can, establish yourself, with a kind of domestic 
familiarity, in good houses. For instance; go again 
to Orli for two or three days, and so at two or three 
reprises. Go and stay for two or three days at a 3° 
time at Versailles, and improve and extend the 

29 Orli. Perhaps Orly, a village near Versailles. 

30 Reprises. Returns. 



15° LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

acquaintance you have there. Be at home at St. 
Cloud; and whenever any private person of fashion 
invites you to pass a few days at his country-house, 
accept of the invitation. This will necessarily give you 
5 a versatility of mind, and a facility to adopt various 
manners and customs; for everybody desires to please 
those in whose house they are; and people are only 
to be pleased in their own way. Nothing is more 
engaging than a cheerful and easy conformity to 

io people's particular manners, habits, and even weak- 
nesses; nothing (to use a vulgar expression) should 
come amiss to a young fellow. He should be, for 
good purposes, what Alcibiades was commonly for 
bad ones, a Proteus, assuming with ease, and wearing 

15 with cheerfulness, any shape. Heat, cold, luxury, 
abstinence, gravity, gayety, ceremony, easiness, learn- 
ing, trifling, business, and pleasure, are modes which 
he should be able to take, lay aside, or change 
occasionally, with as much ease as he would take or 

20 lay aside his hat. All this is only to be acquired by 
use and knowledge of the world, by keeping a great 
deal of company, analyzing every character, and 
insinuating yourself into the familiarity of various 
acquaintance. A right, a generous ambition to make 

25 a figure in the world, necessarily gives the desire of 
pleasing; the desire of pleasing points out, to a great 
degree, the means of doing it; and the art of pleasing 
is, in truth, the art of rising, of distinguishing one's 
self, of making a figure and a fortune in the world. 

30 But without pleasing, without the Graces, as I have 



13 Alcibiades. (b. c, 450-404.) An Athenian of remarkable abiiity and bad 
morals. Socrates tried in vain to win him to a virtuous life. 



TO HIS SON 151 

told you a thousand times ogni fatica e vana. You 
are now but nineteen, an age at which most of your 
countrymen are illiberally getting drunk in port, at 
the University. You have greatly got the start of 
them in learning; and if you can equally get the starts 
of them in the knowledge and manners of the world, 
you may be sure of outrunning them in Court and 
Parliament, as you set out so much earlier than they. 
They generally begin but to see the world at one-and- 
twenty; you will by that age have seen all Europe. 10 
They set out upon their travels unlicked cubs; and 
in their travels they only lick one another, for they 
seldom go into any other company. They know 
nothing but the English world, and the worst part of 
that too, and generally very little of any but the Eng- 15 
lish language; and they come home, at three or four- 
and-twenty, refined and polished (as is said in one 
of Congreve's plays) like Dutch skippers from a 
whale-fishing. The care which has been taken of you, 
and (to do you justice) the care you have taken of 20 
yourself, has left you, at the age of nineteen only, 
nothing to acquire but the knowledge of the world, 
manners, address, and those exterior accomplish- 
ments. But they are great and necessary acquisitions 
to those who have sense enough to know their true 25 
value; and your getting them before you are one-and- 
twenty, and before you enter upon the active and 
shining scene of life, will give you such an advantage 
over all your contemporaries, that they cannot over- 
take you; they must be distanced. 30 

1 Ogni fatica e vana. Every effort is vain. 



152 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 



Letter LXV 

THE VALUE OF METHOD 

London, February 26th, 1754. 
My Dear Friend: Now, that you are soon to 
be a man of business, I heartily wish you would 
immediately begin to be a man of method, nothing 
5 contributing more to facilitate and dispatch business 
than method and order. Have order and method in 
your accounts, in your reading, in the allotment of 
your time, in short, in everything. You cannot con- 
ceive how much time you will save by it, nor how 

10 much better everything you do will be done. The 
Duke of Marlborough did by no means spend, but 
he slatterned himself into that immense debt, which 
is not yet near paid off. The hurry and confusion 
of the Duke of Newcastle do not proceed from his 

15 business, but from his want of method in it. Sir 
Robert Walpole, who had ten times the business to 
do, was never seen in a hurry, because he always 
did it with method. The head of a man who has 
business, and no method nor order, is properly that 

20 rudis indigcstaqne moles quam dixere chaos. As you 
must be conscious that you are extremely negligent 
and slatternly, I hope you will resolve not to be so 
for the future. Prevail with yourself only to observe 
good method and order for one fortnight, and 

25 I will venture to assure you that you will never neg- 
lect them afterward, you will find such conveniency 

20 Rudis .... chaos. Ovid, i, 7. k ' A shapeless, unformed mass which 
we call chaos." 



TO HIS SON 153 

&nd advantage arising from them. Method is the 
great advantage that lawyers have over other people 
in speaking in Parliament; for, as they must neces- 
sarily observe it in their pleadings in the Courts of 
Justice, it becomes habitual to them everywhere else. 5 
Without making you a compliment, I can tell you 
with pleasure, that order, method, and more activity 
of mind, are all that you want, to make, some day or 
other, a considerable figure in business. You have 
more useful knowledge, more discernment of charac- 10 
ters, and much more discretion than is common at 
your age; much more, I am sure, than I had at that 
age. — Experience you cannot yet have, and therefore 
trust in the meantime to mine. I am an old traveler; 
am well acquainted with all the by, as well as the 15 
great, roads; I cannot misguide you from ignorance, 
and you are very sure I shall not from design. 

I can assure you that you will have no opportunity 
of subscribing yourself, my Excellency's, etc. Re- 
tirement and quiet were my choice some years ago, 20 
while I had my senses, and health and spirits enough 
to carry on business; but now I have lost my hear- 
ing, and find my constitution declining daily, they 
are become my necessary and only refuge. I know 
myself (no common piece of knowledge, let me tell 25 
you), I know what I can, what I cannot, and con- 
sequently what I ought to do. I ought not, and 
therefore will not, return to business, when I am 
much less fit for it than I was when I quitted it. Still 
less will I go to Ireland, where, from my deafness 30 
and infirmities, I must necessarily make a different 
figure from that which I once made there. My pride 
would be too much mortified bv that difference. The 



154 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

two important senses of seeing and hearing should 
not only be good, but quick, in business; and the 
business of a Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland (if he will 
do it himself) requires both those senses in the highest 
5 perfection. It was the Duke of Dorset's not doing 
the business himself, but giving it up to favorites, 
that has occasioned all this confusion in Ireland; and 
it was my doing the whole myself, without either 
Favorite, Minister, or Mistress, that made my admin- 

io istration so smooth and quiet. I remember, when I 
named the late Mr. Liddel for my Secretary, every- 
body was much surprised at it; and some of my 
friends represented to me that he was no man of 
business, but only a very genteel, pretty young fellow; 

15 I assured them, and with truth, that that was the 
very reason why I chose him: for that I was resolved 
to do all the business myself, and without even the 
suspicion of having a Minister; which the Lord- 
Lieutenant's Secretary, if he is a man of business, is 

20 always supposed, and commonly with reason, to be. 
Moreover, I look upon myself now 7 to be emeritus in 
business, in which I have been near forty years 
together; I give it up to you: apply yourself to it, as 
I have done, for forty years, and then I consent to 

25 your leaving it for a philosophical retirement, among 
your friends and your books. Statesmen and beauties 
are very rarely sensible of the gradations of their 
decay; and, too sanguinely hoping to shine on in 
their meridian, often set with contempt and ridicule. 

30 I retired in time, uti conviva satur; or, as Pope says, 
still better, " Ere tittering youth shall shove you from 

30 Uti conviva satur. Horace, Satires, I. 1, 119. " As a guest fully 
satisfied." 



TO HIS SON 155 

the stage." My only remaining ambition is to be 
the Counselor and Minister of your rising ambition. 
Let me see my own youth revived in you; let me be 
your Mentor, and, with your parts and knowledge, 
I promise you, you shall go far. You must bring, 5 
on your part, activity and attention, and I will point 
out to you the proper objects for them. I own 1 
fear but one thing for you, and that is what one has 
generally the least reason to fear, from one of your 
age; I mean your laziness, which, if you indulge, will 10 
make you stagnate in a contemptible obscurity all 
your life. It will hinder you from doing anything 
that will deserve to be w r ritten, or from writing any- 
thing that may deserve to be read; and yet one or 
other of these two objects should be at least aimed 15 
at by every rational being. I look upon indolence as 
a sort of suicide; for the Man is effectively destroyed, 
though the appetites of the Brute may survive. Busi- 
ness by no means forbids pleasures; on the contrary, 
they reciprocally season each other; and I will ven- 20 
ture to affirm, that no man enjoys either in perfection 
that does not join both. They whet the decire for 
each other. Use yourself therefore, in time, to be alert 
and diligent in your little concerns: never procrasti- 
nate, never put off till to-morrow what you can do 25 
to-day; and never do two things at a time: pursue 
your object, be it what it will, steadily and indefati- 
gably; and let any difficulties (if surmountable) rather 
animate than slacken your endeavors. Perseverance 
has surprising effects. 30 

I wish you would use yourself to translate, every 
day, only three or four lines, from any book, in any 
language, into the correctest and most elegant Eng- 



156 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

lish that you can think of; you cannot imagine how 
it will insensibly form your style, and give you an 
habitual elegancy : it would not take you up a quarter 
of an hour in a day. This letter is so long, that it 
5 will hardly leave you that quarter of an hour, the day 
you receive it. So good-night. 



Letter XLVI 

EVERY MAN THE ARCHITECT OF HIS OWN FORTUNE * 

Blackheath, Aug. 26, 1766. 
My Dear Little Boy: Your French letter was a 
very good one, considering how long you have been 

10 disused to write in that language. There are indeed 
some few faults in it, which I will show you when we 
next meet, for I keep your letter by me for that pur- 
pose. One cannot correct one's faults without know- 
ing them, and I always looked upon those who told 

15 me of mine as friends, instead of being displeased 
or angry, as people in general are too apt to be. 

You say that I laugh at you when I tell you that 
you may very probably in time be Secretary of State. 
No. I am very serious in saying that you may if 

20 you please, if you take the proper methods to be so. 
Writing well and speaking well in public are the 
necessary qualifications for it, and they are very easily 
acquired by attention and application. In all events, 

* This and the following letter were written to his eleven-year-old godson and 
adopted heir, Philip Stanhope, son of Arthur Charles Stanhope, a distant 
relative. 

15 As friends. " Faithful are the wounds of a friend." 



TO HIS SON 157 

aim at it: and if you do not get it, let it be said of you 
what was said of Phaethon, 

44 Magnis tamen excidit ausis." 

Every man of a generous, noble spirit desires first 
to please and then to shine; Facere digna scribi vols 
scribere digna legi. Fools and indolent people lay 
all their disappointments to the charge of their ill 
fortune, but there is no such thing as good or ill 
fortune. Every man makes his own fortune in pro- 
portion to his merit. An ancient author whom you 10 
are not yet, but will in time be, acquainted with says 
very justly, "Nullum numcn abcst si sit prudentia; 
nos te Fortuna Beam facimus cccloqiw locamus." 
Prudence there means those qualifications and that 
conduct that will command fortune. Let that be your 15 
motto and have it always in your mind. I was sure 
that you would soon come to like voluntary study, 
and I will appeal to yourself, could you employ that 
hour more agreeably? And is it not better than what 
thoughtless boys of your age commonly call play, 20 

2 Phaethon. Tn Greek mythology, son of Helios and Clymene. His father per- 
mitted him to attempt to drive the chariot of the sun across the heavens : but the 
horses left their usual track ; and. to avoid damage to the earth, Zeus killed the 
driver with a thunderbolt. 

3 Magnis .... ausis. He perished in a great attempt. 

4 Every man, etc. Many will take issue with this remark of Lord Chester- 
field, which is not supported by the Latin quotation which follows 

6 Facere .... legi. " To do things worthy to be recorded, or to record 
things worthy to be read." 

12 Nullum .... locamus. Juvenal, Satires, x. 365. " No power is want- 
ing, if discretion be present : we make thee. Fortune, our Goddess, and place thee 
in heaven." The word prndentia, which Lord Chesterfield translates in the lines 
following this quotation, has an extended signification. Originally meaning 
foresight, it also means knowledge, skill, sagacity, practical judgment, etc. 
Numen is also a word of wide meaning, frequently containing the idea of divine 
power, or of deity itself. 



I5 8 LORD CHESTERFIELD'S LETTERS 

which is running about without any object or design 
and only pour tuer le temps? Faire des riens is the 
most miserable abuse and loss of time that can pos- 
sibly be imagined. You must know that I have in 
3 the main a great opinion of you; therefore take great 
care and pains not to forget it. And so God bless 
you. Non progredi est regredi. 

Letter XLVII 

ATTENTION AND DILIGENCE 

Blackheath, Oct. 4, 1766. 
My Dear Little Boy: Amoto quccramus seria litdo. 

10 I have often trifled with you in my letters, and there 
is no harm in trifling sometimes. Dr. Swift used 
often to say, " Vive la bagatelle/' but everything has 
its proper season; and when I consider your age now, 
it is proper, I think, to be sometimes serious. You 

15 know I love you mightily, and I find but one single 
fault with you. You are the best natured boy; you 
have good parts and an excellent memory; but now 
to your fault, which you may so easily correct that I 
am astonished that your own good sense does not 

20 make you do it. It is your giddiness and inattention 
which you confessed to me. You know that without 
a good stock of learning, you can never, whe.i you are 

2 Pour tuer le temps. To kill time. 

2 Faire des riens. To do nothing. 

7 Non .... regredi. " Not to go forward is to go backward.'* 

9 Amoto .... ludo. Let us lay aside our play, and talk seriously. 

11 Dr. Swift. (1667-1745.) Dean of St. Patrick's, Dublin, a noted political 
writer, now best known by his " Gulliver's Travels." 

12 Vive la bagatelle. Long live jesting. 



TO HIS SON- 159 

a man, be received in good company; and the only 
way to acquire that stock is to apply with attention 
and diligence to whatever you are taught. The hoc 
age is of the utmost consequence in every part of life. 
No man can do or think of two things at a time to 5 
any purpose, and whoever does two things at once 
is sure to do them both ill. It is the characteristic of 
a futile, frivolous man to be doing one thing and at 
the same time thinking of another. Do not imagine 
that I would have you plod and study all day long; 10 
no, leave that to dull boys. On the contrary, I would 
have you divert yourself and be as gay as ever you 
please; but while you are learning, mind that only, 
and think of nothing else; it will be the sooner over. 
They tell an idle story of Julius Caesar that he dictated 15 
to six secretaries at once and upon different busi- 
nesses. This I am sure is as false as it is absurd, for 
Caesar had too good sense to do any two things at 
once. 

I am sure that for the future you will attend dili- 20 
gently to whatever you are doing, and that for two 
reasons: the one is that your own good sense at 
eleven years old will show you not only the utility but 
the necessity of learning: the other is, that if you love 
me as I believe you do, you will cheerfully do what 25 
I so earnestly ask of you for your own sake only. 
When I see you next, which shall not be very long, I 
flatter myself that the Doctor will give me a very 
good account of your close attention. Good-night. 

8 Hoc age. Do this thing : give your undivided attention to the subject in 
in hand. 
28 The Doctor. His tutor. 



